Did The NSA Fail To Prevent 911?

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

Gilbert Pierce, my wife's male trainee, bragged that he could disarm a bomb just by relying on his senses and with his eyes closed. However, he misjudged it and triggered the bomb's secondary detonation sequence. I stepped in at the last second and used the most dangerous method available, liquid nitrogen flash cooling, to save the entire building. Gilbert was pulled off frontline duty and placed on suspension for review. My wife, Jasmine Clem, tried to speak up for him, but I stopped her cold. "If you defend him now, you won't save him. You'll just get dragged down and suspended alongside him." Unable to handle the pressure, Gilbert blew himself up in an accident. In his suicide note, he accused Jasmine of choosing self-preservation when he needed her most. Jasmine said nothing. She only locked that letter away in her study. Years later, Jasmine became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was captured and strapped with a timed explosive. Jasmine came to the scene personally to defuse it, but right in front of me, she repeated the exact same mistake her trainee had made years ago. She watched the countdown and smiled lightly at me. "See? He was just nervous back then. If I had encouraged him, he'd be a hero now." The bomb detonated, and I was blown apart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she was about to defend Gilbert. She didn't know that inside that building sat the nation's most classified core servers.

"Max DiSalvo gave his entire life to the SEALs. He would have married—he certainly enjoyed women—but he never could find one who understood his dedication to the Teams. It takes a certain caliber of woman to be a SEAL wife. Now, at 48, he is out of the SEALs, running his own commercial fishing company in Maine where he grew up, and waiting for his assignments from DHS.Regan Shaw, a SEAL widow, is an Intelligence Operations Specialist with DHS. Part of her job is analyzing information to assess threats, and she’s discovered a doozy—there is a secret group of very wealthy people who are smuggling terrorists into the country. And word has come down that a high-level member of the government is clearing the way for them.The group is about to have one of its executive meetings at an exclusive resort in Texas, and that’s where DHS is sending the two of them.SEAL Undercover is created by Desiree Holt, an EGlobal Creative Publishing signed author."

During a holiday, I returned to my hometown to visit my family. My family’s private jet was under maintenance. The newly hired housekeeper mistakenly booked an economy-class ticket. While I was boarding, I ran into my first love, Brooke Smith, and her new boyfriend, Simon Xanders. They mocked me for flying in economy class. They laughed at me for being a country bumpkin heading to Nework. I ignored them. Then, I accidentally discovered the pilot, Lucas Wallace’s secret. His wife had been cheating on him. It turned out he had been raising another man’s child for over a decade. He wanted to take the entire plane down with him. I knew how to fly a plane. I urged everyone to subdue the pilot and let me make an emergency landing. Yet they mocked and humiliated me relentlessly. Then, the plane plunged sharply toward the ground. Only then did they finally panic.

On the day Clara forced me to sign the divorce papers, I got bound to a self-sabotaging system. The system commanded me to slap her hard and tell her to get lost. I trembled in fear because Clara was a ruthless person. If I dared to stop her from getting back together with the love of her life, she would utterly destroy me. But the system threatened me: "If you don't self-sabotage, you will die soon." Left with no choice, I slapped her. As soon as I hit her, I ran out of the house, terrified. The system then told me to smash a police car on the side of the road. I suspected the system wanted me dead. However, after I smashed the police car's side view mirror, I realized that the system was trying to sabotage someone else's life instead.

On the day of Claire Brooks, my wife's funeral, a grieving stranger arrived carrying white lilies. After placing them beside her portrait, he walked straight toward me. "I've envied you for thirty years," he said. Confused, I frowned as his eyes lingered on her photograph. "For thirty years, she gave me everything—her love, her time, her money. She never held anything back." He paused before looking at me with quiet resentment. "The only thing she forbade was letting you know I existed." My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "It means that while you were married to her for thirty years, she was with me for thirty years too." Then he walked away, leaving me frozen beside her coffin. I stared after him, struggling for breath. Thirty years of betrayal and lies. The shock sent my blood pressure surging, and I collapsed in the middle of the funeral hall. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Claire and I were supposed to be married. "Nathan Brooks, will you spend the rest of your life with me?" After a long silence, I took the ring from her hand and, without a moment's hesitation, threw it down the drain.