Chương 1
"""The first time Flynn tried the bedroom door, I was still kneeling beside the bed with one hand pressed over the hidden speaker.
The second time, he knocked.
“Evelyn?”
I stared at the green light glowing beneath the steel panel.
The security officer on the other end had gone silent.
“Ev, you in there?”
Flynn sounded exactly like my husband.
That was the worst part.
Not angry, not nervous, not like a man who had just discussed murdering his wife and sabotaging her parents’ car.
He sounded mildly concerned, almost amused, the way he sounded when I took too long choosing shoes for dinner.
I forced myself upright.
The room tilted so violently that I caught the edge of the mattress.
“Bathroom,” I called.
My voice came out thick.
Flynn waited.
“You okay?”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
That answer pleased him.
I could hear it in the softness that entered his voice.
“Take your time, sweetheart.”
His footsteps moved away.
I stayed still until I could no longer hear them.
Then the speaker crackled.
“Ms. Sterling?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Daniel Cho, and I’m the duty officer at Sterling Maritime Security.”
I swallowed against the sour taste in my mouth.
“You said you recorded them.”
“The vessel’s emergency system has retained audio from designated security zones.”
“Then call the Coast Guard.”
“We already initiated emergency protocol when you authenticated.”
“Good.”
“But I need you to listen carefully.”
Something in his tone stopped me.
“Your husband has access to the bridge.”
“I know.”
“He also dismissed two members of the regular crew in Saint Thomas yesterday and replaced them with temporary personnel.”
I closed my eyes.
Flynn had told me the men had food poisoning.
“How many people on this boat work for him?”
“We don’t know.”
The answer frightened me more than a reassuring lie would have.
Daniel continued.
“Captain Mercer is Sterling staff and has been with your father twelve years.”
“I know Ben.”
“Can you reach him safely?”
I pictured the route from our suite to the bridge.
Two staircases.
A central salon.
A passage beside the galley.
Too many places to be seen.
“No.”
“Then don’t try.”
“What about my parents?”
“We’re contacting your father’s security director separately.”
“No, call my father now.”
“We are.”
“I need to hear his voice.”
There was a brief silence.
“Understood.”
I crouched again because standing had become too difficult.
My wedding ring caught against the steel panel.
For one stupid second, I looked at it.
Flynn had chosen an emerald-cut diamond because I once told him round diamonds looked like something a cartoon prince would buy.
He had remembered that conversation for eleven months.
Apparently a man could remember your jokes while planning your death.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“What did they record?”
“We should not review evidence over an unsecured cabin connection unless necessary.”
“Did you hear what I heard?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“My parents too?”
“Yes.”
My stomach contracted.
I crawled into the bathroom just before I vomited.
There was almost nothing in me except water and the pale soup Flynn had insisted I finish at lunch.
When I raised my head, my face in the mirror looked unfamiliar.
My mascara had smudged beneath one eye.
My hair was tangled over one shoulder.
I was wearing a silk robe embroidered with Mrs. Callahan across the pocket, a gift from Fiona at my bridal shower.
I pulled it off and left it on the bathroom floor.
The absurdity of that small act nearly made me laugh.
I had discovered a conspiracy to murder my family, and apparently one of my priorities was refusing to die in personalized sleepwear.
I rinsed my mouth.
When I returned to the panel, Daniel was speaking to someone away from his microphone.
“Ms. Sterling?”
“I’m here.”
“Your father has been reached.”
My knees weakened again.
“Put him through.”
A click sounded.
Then my father said, “Evie?”
I bit my knuckle.
My father had not called me Evie in front of anyone since I was fourteen.
“Dad.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Door locked?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
His voice was controlled, but I heard papers moving rapidly somewhere near him.
My father always rearranged whatever was in front of him when he was scared.
Contracts, napkins, mail, it made no difference.
“Where’s Mom?”
“At home.”
“Don’t let her leave.”
“She isn’t going anywhere.”
“Flynn said something about the mountains next week.”
Daniel interrupted gently.
“Mr. Sterling has been briefed on that portion.”
My father breathed through his nose.
“Your mother is with two security officers now.”
Only then did I let myself believe she was alive.
I sat against the bed.
“Dad, I signed something before the wedding.”
“I know.”
“A power of attorney.”
“I know what you signed.”
“I didn’t read it properly.”
The confession hurt almost as much as the betrayal.
My father had spent my childhood warning me that signatures were promises strangers could sell.
At twenty-nine, I had signed documents Flynn’s attorney placed in front of me while answering florist calls and arguing with a caterer about whether twelve vegetarians counted as a dietary emergency.
My father said nothing for several seconds.
I hated the silence.
“You can say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you warned me.”
“This isn’t the time.”
“You did.”
“Evelyn.”
“I treated you like you were controlling me.”
“Sometimes I was controlling you.”
That stopped me.
My father rarely surrendered an inch in an argument, even after the argument had been dead for years.
He cleared his throat.
“We can discuss all the ways I annoyed you when you’re standing in my kitchen.”
I pressed my forehead to my knees.
“What if I don’t get there?”
“You will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
His voice changed.
The certainty disappeared.
“No, I don’t.”
That honesty steadied me more than the promise had.
Daniel came back onto the line.
“We need to minimize communication now.”
“Wait,” I said.
My father spoke quickly.
“Do exactly what Daniel tells you.”
May you like
“Dad.”
“I love you.”
