Chapter 42

Joanna was terrified. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She thought, "If he'd hit that truck at that speed, even with seatbelts, we would have died! It doesn't matter if I die, but what about my three children?"

Therefore, Joanna didn't dare shout at him again. Instead, she pleaded, horrified, "Bruce, please! Don't do this…"

Vroom!

He restarted the car. It lurched forward like a runaway beast, roaring as it plunged into traffic.

"Bruce, please stop! I'm begging you!"

Bruce seemed not to hear. He accelerated.

The car repeatedly overtook other vehicles. Each pass was agonizing.

Luckily, he was a skilled driver. Whenever a collision seemed imminent, they narrowly avoided it.

"Ah! Ah!"

Joanna repeatedly closed her eyes in fear, clutching the overhead handle despite her seatbelt. She thought, "I mustn't die! Not for my three children!"

"Bruce, please. Don't do this…" Joanna begged, grabbing his arm.

Bruce was furious, but uncertain what he wanted. He only knew his rage was overwhelming, and speeding was his way to vent it.

"Bruce, you have to stop the car! I'm begging you!"

Having drunk earlier, driving was incredibly dangerous for him. The car sped faster and faster, reaching eighty-seven miles per hour. Worse, they were on a mountain road approaching a hairpin turn, making the situation even more perilous.

"Bruce, stop the car! What the hell is wrong with you? Ah! Ah…"

Terror gripped Joanna. She thought, "If this continues, we'll crash! I want to jump out, but at this speed, I'd be killed!" "Bruce, you have to stop!" she pleaded, trying to prevent him from speeding up.

Suddenly, a car appeared from the opposite direction.

Bruce swerved violently, but it was too late. In a desperate maneuver, he jerked the wheel the other way.

Crack!

Chapter 42 Crash!

The car smashed through the roadside barrier and plunged into the sea.

"Ah!" Joanna screamed, eyes squeezed shut.

Bang!

Thump!

The car hit the water with brutal force. The impact knocked Joanna unconscious.

Bruce hit his head on the steering wheel. Then, the airbags deployed.

Five minutes later, Joanna awoke, breaking into a cold sweat. Water was already halfway up inside the car. Bruce was unconscious.

"Bruce, Bruce, wake up! The water's coming in!"

He didn't respond. The car was dark, illuminated only by a faint streetlight on the shore. Bruce had a cut on his forehead, his face covered in blood. Trembling, Joanna frantically shook him. "Bruce, wake up…"

The water continued to rise. Panic seized Joanna. She abandoned her attempts to wake Bruce and frantically tried the car door, but the water pressure prevented it from opening. "Where's the safety hammer?"

Cars usually have a safety hammer for breaking windows in emergencies. But she couldn't find it in the glove compartment. The water reached her chest.

Without hesitation, Joanna kicked off her heels. She aimed for the car window's weakest point and smashed at it repeatedly.

Bang, bang!

Bang, bang, bang!

After several blows, the window weakened. A few more strikes, and it shattered. Joanna climbed out.

The car was completely submerged. She waited for it to settle, then swam to the surface. Luckily, the water pressure had equalized.

Joanna opened the car door to pull Bruce out, but he was still strapped in. The darkness underwater hampered her efforts to unbuckle his seatbelt. She was running out of breath, but dared not surface; the car would likely sink completely by then. Bruce was unconscious; if she didn't save him, he would die. She could give up and save herself, but Joanna held her breath. With her last gasp, she finally unfastened the seatbelt.

Joanna pulled Bruce from the car.

Splash!

They surfaced. Joanna gasped for air, trying to regain her breath.

"Bruce, wake up…"

At six foot two, dragging Bruce to shore would be nearly impossible, but she didn't give up. She held him under his arms and struggled toward the shore with all her might.

As Bruce surfaced, he regained a sliver of consciousness. Half-awake, he felt a strange familiarity, a flashback to a drowning incident ten years earlier—a thin, delicate figure dragging a much larger person to safety. A long-buried memory surfaced.

(Note: I removed the promotional sentence at the end.)