Chương 2
He had insisted I learn how they worked.
I had rolled my eyes.
I told him I was not living in a spy movie.
He told me rich families did not get to pretend danger was imaginary.
At the time, I thought he was being dramatic.
Now I dropped to the floor beside the bed.
My fingers searched beneath the wooden frame until they found a small metal panel.
The code came back immediately.
I hated that I remembered it perfectly.
A green light appeared after I entered the numbers.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a voice spoke through the hidden speaker.
“Sterling Security emergency line.”
I pressed my hand against my chest.
“This is Evelyn Sterling.”
There was a brief pause.
Then the voice changed.
“Ms. Sterling, confirm your location.”
“Private yacht.”
“Name?”
I hesitated.
I could hear footsteps outside the suite.
“Callisto.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“Ms. Sterling, are you alone?”
I looked toward the door.
The handle moved slightly.
“No.”
The voice became sharper.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
“Yes.”
A quiet click came through the speaker.
“Emergency protocol activated.”
I swallowed.
“My husband is trying to kill me.”
The words sounded unreal even after I said them.
The security officer did not react with disbelief.
He did not ask if I was sure.
He simply asked,
“Do you have evidence?”
I almost laughed.
Evidence.
I had overheard a murder plan.
I had no phone.
No recording.
No witness.
Just the memory of my husband calmly discussing my death.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
The officer was silent for a moment.
Then he said,
“Ms. Sterling, listen carefully.”
The footsteps outside stopped.
“Your yacht systems have been transmitting security data since the wedding.”
My breathing slowed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we may already have what you need.”
The door handle turned again.
Harder this time.
“Who activated the system?” Flynn called from outside.
His voice was gentle.
That was the part that frightened me most.
Not anger.
Not panic.
Gentleness.
“Evelyn?”
I looked at the speaker.
The security officer spoke quietly.
“Do not open the door.”
I stared at the lock.
Flynn placed his hand against the other side.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
The man who planned to throw me into the ocean was using the same voice he used when I had nightmares.
I backed away.
The officer continued.
“Keep him talking if you can.”
“Why?”
“Because people reveal more when they believe they are still in control.”
I looked at the door.
My hand hovered near the handle.
For three days, Flynn had controlled every meal, every pill, every conversation.
He believed I was still the woman who trusted him.
He believed he had already won.
I took a slow breath.
Then I unlocked the door.
Flynn stepped back when the door opened, and for a fraction of a second, surprise crossed his face before he replaced it with concern.
“There you are,” he said softly.
His eyes moved over me quickly.
Not like a husband checking if his wife was okay.
Like someone inspecting damage.
“You scared me.”
I leaned against the doorframe because my legs were still unreliable.
“I wasn't feeling well.”
The lie came out easier than I expected.
Maybe because I had spent three days living inside his lies.
Flynn reached toward me.
I moved away before his fingers touched my arm.
The smallest movement.
Almost nothing.
But I saw him notice.
His expression changed for less than a second.
A crack in the performance.
Then it disappeared.
“Are you upset with me?”
His voice had always been one of my favorite things about him.
Low.
Patient.
Reassuring.
Now it sounded like a recording I had heard too many times.
“I heard voices,” I said.
His face remained calm.
“What voices?”
“My parents.”
A strange answer.
A small test.
I watched his reaction.
Nothing.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Just a careful pause.
“Your parents?”
“Yes.”
He smiled slightly.
“Evelyn, you've been sick for days.”
There it was.
The explanation waiting for me.
The one he had prepared.
“You've barely slept.”
I said nothing.
“You've been taking medication.”
My stomach tightened.
“Medication you gave me.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“Yes.”
The silence between us stretched.
Before today, I would have filled it.
I would have apologized.
I would have tried to make things comfortable.
Now I let the silence stay.
Flynn looked uncomfortable first.
It was such a small victory that I almost missed it.
“You need to lie down,” he said.
“I need my phone.”
His expression changed again.
A little too quickly.
“It's charging.”
“Where?”
“In the lounge.”
“Bring it.”
He smiled.
“Of course.”
He turned away.
That was when I noticed the difference.
Before, Flynn moved around me like I was someone precious.
Now he moved around me like I was something fragile that needed to be managed.
The security officer's voice came through the hidden earpiece I had pressed against my hair.
It was so quiet I could barely hear it.
“Good.”
I kept my face neutral.
Flynn walked toward the lounge.
I followed him.
Not close enough to seem suspicious.
Not far enough to lose sight of him.
The yacht felt different now.
The same polished floors.
The same expensive artwork.
The same sunlight spilling through the windows.
But every beautiful thing looked temporary.
A luxury prison was still a prison.
In the lounge, Fiona and Aidan were sitting exactly where I had heard them.
They looked ordinary.
That was the most disturbing part.
Fiona was scrolling through a magazine.
Aidan was reading financial news on a tablet.
If I had walked in ten minutes earlier, I would have smiled and greeted them.
I might have asked Fiona if she wanted to join me for dinner.
I might have believed she was trying to become my second mother.
She looked up.
“Evelyn.”
Her smile appeared quickly.
Too quickly.
“You look pale.”
“I don't feel great.”
She closed the magazine.
May you like
“Poor thing.”
The words were perfect.
