Chapter 1 - The Voices Below Deck

The Caribbean was supposed to make me forget every ugly headline that had ever used my last name.

For three days, the sea had been blue glass around my father's yacht, Aurelia, and Flynn had played the husband I had married: attentive, amused, always touching my shoulder as if he still couldn't believe I was his wife.

By the third afternoon, I could barely stand.

"You're pale again," Flynn said when I pushed away a bowl of tomato bisque.

"I'm not hungry."

He lifted two white tablets from a silver pill case. "Take these. The doctor said motion sickness can linger."

"Which doctor?"

He smiled. "The one who told us exactly this before we left Miami. Evelyn, don't start turning medicine into a board meeting."

I laughed because that was what he expected.

Then I swallowed the pills.

Or pretended to.

One tablet stuck beneath my tongue. The other slipped into my napkin when he turned to answer a call.

An hour later, the dizziness came anyway.

That frightened me more than the pills.

Something had already been in the soup.

I told Flynn I needed to lie down. He kissed my forehead, tucked the blanket around me, and waited until my breathing slowed.

I counted to three hundred after the suite door closed.

Then I got up.

My legs felt packed with sand. I followed the mahogany wall into the corridor, one hand sliding over brass trim while the yacht rolled gently beneath me.

I only wanted the medicine cabinet in the small infirmary one deck down.

I never reached it.

At the mid-level staircase, voices drifted up from the lower lounge.

Aidan Mercer was speaking first.

My father-in-law always sounded as if every sentence belonged in a contract.

"How are you managing the dosage, Flynn?"

I stopped so suddenly my shoulder struck the wall.

Flynn answered with a lazy confidence I had heard in restaurants, meetings, even our wedding vows.

"Two pills every night, plus a little extra in her soup just now. By midnight, she won't even be able to open her eyes."

The staircase seemed to tilt.

I crouched beside the brass railing.

Fiona's voice followed.

"So we make our move tonight?"

My mother-in-law had called me her sweet daughter for eighteen months.

Flynn laughed softly.

"Tonight. There's a squall after midnight. Most of the crew will be below. I'll tell Evelyn she needs air, walk her to the aft deck, and give her one push."

My breath stopped.

Aidan asked, "And the trust?"

"I got her signature on the power of attorney before the wedding. Once she's presumed lost at sea, the money moves. Three hundred million."

Fiona gave a pleased little gasp.

"What about Charles and Helen?"

My parents.

Flynn's answer came without hesitation.

"They leave for Aspen next week. My people are already waiting. Brake line. Ice. Mountain pass. The whole Sterling problem disappears."

I covered my mouth.

My stomach cramped so hard I thought I would be sick across the stairs.

They were drinking my father's champagne on my father's yacht and calmly planning the extinction of my family.

A glass touched another glass below.

"To new beginnings," Fiona said.

I backed away.

One step.

Then another.

The drug haze rushed through me as I reached the corridor.

I had four hours until midnight.

Maybe less.

My first instinct was to call my father.

My phone showed no service.

Of course it didn't. We were far beyond normal cellular coverage.

The yacht had satellite communications, but Flynn controlled the guest terminal in our suite. The bridge had another system, and crew carried encrypted radios.

I turned toward the stairs leading up.

Then a door opened behind me.

"Mrs. Mercer?"

I nearly screamed.

Owen Hart, Aurelia's chief engineer, stepped into the corridor carrying a tablet and a grease-marked rag. He was fifty, broad-shouldered, and had worked for my father long before I met Flynn.

"You shouldn't be wandering alone if you're ill," he said.

I stared at him.

Could I trust him?

Flynn knew this boat had belonged to my family. If he had planned murder here, he had either bought people or believed they could be avoided.

Owen lowered his voice.

"Mrs. Mercer?"

"How long have you worked for my father?"

His brow furrowed. "Twenty-one years."

"Would you lie to him for Flynn?"

His expression hardened instantly.

"No."

"Would you lie to Flynn for me?"

He studied my face.

"Depends what kind of lie."

I stepped closer.

"The kind that keeps me alive until morning."

He did not ask me if I was joking.

That was why I trusted him.

"Engine room," he said quietly. "Now."

I followed him down two narrow service stairways and through a steel door. The luxury disappeared. Around us were pumps, wiring cabinets, gauges, polished pipes, and the constant low heartbeat of diesel machinery.

Owen locked the door.

"Talk."

I told him what I had heard.

Not elegantly.

Not calmly.

The sentences fell out of me between shallow breaths.

When I finished, his face had gone gray.

"You are certain?"

"I heard Flynn describe pushing me overboard. I heard Aidan ask about my trust. I heard Fiona ask about my parents."

Owen swore under his breath.

"We need Captain Vale."

"Can we trust her?"

"Captain Mara Vale has worked for Mr. Sterling nine years."

"That's not what I asked."

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Yes. I trust her."

I shook my head.

"Trust isn't evidence."

"Neither is panic."

"I'm not panicking."

"Your hands are shaking."

I looked down.

He was right.

I pressed them against my thighs.

"I need proof before they know I heard them. If Flynn realizes I know, he can change the plan. He can say I overdosed. He can say I jumped. He can say anything."

Owen nodded slowly.

"Then we make him believe the medicine is working."

A knock sounded at the door.

Three short taps.

Owen opened it only a few inches.

Captain Mara Vale stood outside, silver hair tied tightly at the nape of her neck.

"You told me we had a coolant alarm," she said.

"We do now," Owen replied.

She entered and shut the door.

Her eyes moved to me.

"Mrs. Mercer?"

"Call me Evelyn."

"What's happened?"

I told the story again.

This time I watched her carefully.

At Flynn's name, nothing changed.

At Aidan's, one muscle in her jaw tightened.

At the mention of my parents, she pulled out her radio.

"I can raise shore operations on encrypted satellite."

I caught her wrist.

"Not yet."

"Your parents may be in danger."

"Next week, according to Flynn. We have hours to warn them. I have minutes to make sure he doesn't know I'm awake."

Mara stared at me.

"What do you want to do?"

The question almost broke me.

All my life, people had decided for me under the disguise of protecting me. Lawyers chose language. Security teams chose routes. My father chose drivers. Flynn chose pills.

Now three people were planning to kill me because they thought I would remain passive until the ocean swallowed me.

"I want to go back to my suite," I said.

Owen shook his head immediately.

"Absolutely not."

"If I'm missing, he searches. If I act frightened, he knows. If I suddenly recover, he knows."

Mara said, "And if he gives you more drugs?"

I pulled the tablet from my napkin pocket and placed it on a steel workbench.

"I won't swallow them."

Owen picked it up with the rag.

"I'll have this tested in the medical locker."

"Can you preserve it?"

He nodded.

"Bag, seal, time stamp."

Mara's eyes sharpened.

"You're thinking prosecution already."

"I'm thinking survival first. Prosecution second."

"Good."

She took a small black radio from her belt and handed it to me.

"Channel seven is crew maintenance. Keep it hidden. Press twice without speaking if you need immediate help."

"What if Flynn searches me?"

Owen pointed to the lining of my cardigan.

"Give me that."

Two minutes later, the radio was inside a slit he had opened behind the lower seam.

Mara added, "I can quietly move two deckhands to the aft corridor before midnight."

"No uniforms near me. Nothing obvious."

"Understood."

Owen leaned close.

"Evelyn, listen to me. You do not need to catch these people yourself."

"I know."

"Do you?"

I met his eyes.

"My husband has been drugging me for three days. He forged or manipulated legal documents involving three hundred million dollars. He plans to murder my parents. If we only stop tonight, he still has access to people on shore. I need to know how wide this goes."

Mara exhaled.

"Then we keep you visible, but never alone."

"He cannot know that."

"He won't."

I returned to the suite at five forty-two in the afternoon.

Flynn was sitting on the edge of the bed.

My empty pillow was in his hand.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

For one terrible second, neither of us spoke.

Then his smile appeared.

"There you are."

I forced my knees to soften as if I could barely stand.

"Bathroom," I murmured.

He crossed the room and caught me around the waist.

"You should have called me."

His voice was tender.

That almost frightened me more than the murder plan.

He helped me into bed.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll wake you later."

"Why later?"

His thumb brushed my cheek.

"The storm. I thought we could watch it together from the aft deck."

Every hair on my arms lifted.

I let my eyelids droop.

"That sounds nice."

Flynn kissed my forehead.

"It'll be unforgettable."

He left the room.

I waited until the lock clicked.

Then I reached beneath my cardigan and pressed the hidden radio twice.

A moment later, Mara's whisper answered through the fabric.

"We hear you."

I stared at the closed door.

"He just confirmed the deck," I whispered.

Silence.

Then Owen's voice came through.

"The tablet tested positive for a strong sedative."

My throat tightened.

"How strong?"

"Strong enough that two tablets plus whatever was in your soup could make you barely responsive."

I closed my eyes.

The betrayal became physical in that moment.

Not an overheard possibility.

Not a nightmare.

A chemical fact.

"Seal the result," I said.

"Already done."

I looked toward the darkening windows.

The first storm clouds were forming on the horizon.

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"Then tonight," I said, "we let Flynn think his plan is working."

And for the first time since I had heard the toast below deck, I stopped feeling like prey.