Chương 7
But he saw it.
The smile remained.
His eyes did not.
“Come downstairs, darling.”
“I’m staying here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t feel well.”
His head tilted.
“Then you should be in bed.”
“No.”
The word hung between us.
Something changed in his face.
Not enough for Laurent to accuse.
Not enough for Elias to act.
Enough for me.
Florent glanced at the satellite handset on the console.
Then at Captain Laurent.
“Who have you been calling?”
Captain Laurent did not look at the handset.
“I made a routine operational call.”
Florent’s smile sharpened.
“About my wife?”
“About weather and route conditions.”
“You just said she became ill.”
“She did.”
Florent looked at me again.
“Did you ask him to call someone?”
I could feel Elias watching from the side of the room.
“No.”
It was the first lie I had told Florent that did not feel like betrayal.
It felt like oxygen.
He stepped closer.
“You vanished.”
“I went looking for medicine.”
“And ended up on the bridge?”
“I got sick downstairs.”
He waited.
I did not fill the silence.
That was new for us.
During our marriage, Florent had trained me without my noticing to rescue every awkward pause.
If he became quiet, I explained.
If he frowned, I reassured.
If he withdrew, I went after him.
Now I let the silence belong to him.
His gaze dropped to my bare foot.
“Where is your shoe?”
I looked down as though I had forgotten.
“Here.”
I bent and slid it back on.
The tissue beneath the insole had become uneven.
One pill remained there.
Florent watched my hands.
“Come with me.”
“I said I’m staying.”
His face tightened.
Captain Laurent stepped between us without making it look like an intervention.
“Mrs. Delorme should remain where I can monitor her until I’m satisfied she is medically stable.”
Florent laughed once.
“You’re a yacht captain, not a doctor.”
“No argument there.”
“Then stop pretending.”
Laurent’s expression did not change.
“I’m not pretending to diagnose her.”
“Good.”
“I’m preventing an impaired passenger from wandering around during deteriorating weather.”
Florent looked through the forward windows.
The horizon had darkened, and the water beyond the glass had lost its polished blue color.
Clouds were building low and thick.
“What deteriorating weather?”
Laurent pointed at the radar screen.
“The squall line is moving faster than forecast.”
My stomach tightened at the word squall.
It had been part of the plan downstairs.
Florent followed Laurent’s finger.
For a fraction of a second, irritation crossed his face.
Not fear.
Inconvenience.
“You told me it would arrive after midnight.”
“Forecasts change.”
“How much earlier?”
“Possibly ten thirty.”
I watched Florent absorb that.
A storm at ten thirty complicated a murder planned around midnight.
He turned to me.
“We’ll eat early.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need something in your stomach.”
“I already threw up.”
“Then soup.”
The word chilled me.
I saw Elias react too.
Just a slight shift of his eyes.
Florent noticed nothing.
“I don’t want soup.”
“Since when do you argue about soup?”
The question was almost playful.
Almost.
I looked at him and wondered how many ordinary disagreements had really been tests.
“I don’t know.”
I shrugged.
“Maybe marriage has changed me.”
Elias looked down quickly.
Laurent coughed into his fist.
Florent did not laugh.
“You’re acting strangely.”
“I feel terrible.”
“Exactly.”
He extended his hand.
“Come downstairs.”
“No.”
This time his smile disappeared.
He lowered his voice.
“Can we not do this in front of the crew?”
That sentence almost got me.
Not because I believed him.
Because it sounded so much like us.
We had always avoided making scenes.
My mother made scenes.
My father made business problems disappear by walking into rooms and making everyone else nervous.
I had spent my adult life trying to be easier than both of them.
Florent knew that.
He was reaching for the version of me who would rather comply than embarrass anyone.
I folded my arms.
“I’m not going.”
His eyes hardened.
Then the bridge door opened.
Marc stepped inside carrying a clipboard.
He stopped when he saw all of us.
“Sorry.”
Laurent said, “What is it?”
“Watch schedule.”
“Done?”
“Yes.”
Marc handed him the clipboard.
Then he looked at Florent.
“You wanted privacy tonight, but Captain restored exterior checks.”
The room went silent.
Laurent closed his eyes for half a second.
Marc looked between us.
“What?”
Florent turned slowly toward the captain.
“You changed the watch because of me?”
Laurent took the clipboard.
“Because of weather.”
Marc frowned.
“No, you said—”
“Thank you, Marc.”
Marc’s expression soured.
He understood he had walked into something.
He did not understand what.
That was enough to make him defensive.
“I’m just saying he asked me why I changed it.”
Laurent’s voice became colder.
“And now I have your answer.”
Marc looked at me.
Then at Florent.
Then at Elias.
“Right.”
He backed toward the door.
Florent said, “Wait.”
Marc stopped.
“Did my wife speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did Elias?”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
Marc said, “No.”
“Did anyone tell you I wanted the aft deck empty?”
Marc hesitated.
“No.”
Florent stared at him.
Marc shifted his weight.
“I mean, you asked for reduced traffic.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“Apparently you don’t.”
Marc bristled.
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“I’m sure.”
The contempt in Florent’s voice landed badly.
Marc’s face changed.
He had the look of a man suddenly regretting every favor he had ever done.
Laurent said, “That’s enough.”
Marc left without another word.
The door shut.
Florent looked at Laurent.
“I’d like to speak with my wife privately.”
“No.”
My husband turned.
Elias had said it.
For the first time since Florent entered, Elias stepped away from the console.
Florent looked almost amused.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“I know.”
“Then stay out of it.”
Elias folded his arms.
“I’d rather not.”
Florent glanced at me.
“What have you told them?”
My pulse jumped.
May you like
I tried to keep my face empty.
“Told them about what?”
