His hand reached out.
His glass fell in slow motion.
His expression shifted from calm to disbelief.
And then—
Splash.
The ocean swallowed him whole.
Panic entered the conversation immediately.
“Mr. Yelli!”
“He fell in!”
“Where is he?”
“I cannot see him!”
“Why is the water moving like this?”
One of them shouted,
“Jump in!”
Another hesitated.
“With these waves?”
The first one glared at him.
“That is our boss inside that water!”
The second nodded immediately.
“Correct. Let’s go and die together.”
They grabbed life jackets and jumped in one by one.
Splash.
Splash.
Splash.
But the ocean was no longer calm. It was alive—wild, unpredictable, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.
Inside the water, reality hit hard.
Henry struggled. The water hit him from every direction—up, down, sideways. He tried to swim, but the current dragged him like he was nothing.
No control.
No power.
No command.
For the first time in years, Henry Yelli was not in charge.
His thoughts raced.
This is not happening.
I cannot die like this.
Not here.
Not like this.
He gasped for air but swallowed water instead.
Above the surface, his crew searched desperately.
“I cannot see him!”
“Sir!”
“Mr. Yelli!”
The waves kept pushing, pulling, dragging him farther away—farther from the yacht, farther from help.
Then the current shifted direction suddenly, as if a decision had been made.
Instead of pulling him deeper into the ocean, it began to carry him toward the island.
Toward the shore.
Toward Fumi.
Meanwhile, someone was still praying for fish.
Unaware of the billionaire currently being dragged by destiny itself, Fumi stood knee-deep in the water, arguing with her net.
“Yes, today must be the day,” she declared. “If I do not catch something big, I will report this sea to God.”
She adjusted her stance dramatically.
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