Chapter 2 - I Pretended to Be DruggedI spent the next two hours pretending I could barely keep my eyes open.
It was easier than I expected.
For the previous three days, whatever Flynn had been giving me had genuinely left me slow, exhausted, and disoriented. I knew what that looked like now—the dragging steps, delayed responses, heavy eyelids.
So I performed.
At dinner, I dropped my fork.
Flynn immediately reached down and picked it up.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“So tired.”
Across the table, Aidan Callahan watched me.
His wife, Fiona, sat beside him wearing a white linen dress and enough diamonds to open a small jewelry store. I had always thought Fiona merely disliked me.
Now I wondered whether she knew her son planned to kill me.
“You've hardly eaten,” she said.
Her tone sounded concerned.
I looked at her.
“Not hungry.”
Flynn placed his hand over mine.
“You should rest before the storm.”
Before the storm.
There it was again.
I leaned against him.
“Maybe.”
He smiled.
Aidan drank his wine.
Fiona stared at the ocean.
Nobody mentioned that my parents were supposedly going to die in a plane crash next month.
I needed to know exactly who was involved.
More importantly, I needed evidence.
Running screaming to the crew might save me tonight, but Flynn was charming, wealthy, persuasive, and prepared. If he had already arranged an accidental death, he might have anticipated accusations.
And there was another problem.
My parents were still in danger.
If Flynn had partners on land, escaping the yacht wouldn't necessarily stop whatever had been planned for them.
I needed names.
Dates.
Proof.
After dinner, I excused myself.
Flynn walked me to our cabin.
“Get some sleep.”
“Aren't you coming?”
He brushed a strand of hair from my face.
“I'll check the weather and join you.”
I forced a sleepy smile.
“Don't stay away long.”
His eyes softened.
For a moment, he looked so convincing that part of me wanted to believe everything had been a horrible misunderstanding.
Then he kissed my forehead.
“I won't.”
He left.
I waited thirty seconds.
Then sixty.
Then I got up.
My first target was the satellite phone.
There was one on the bridge.
Another was kept in the emergency communications cabinet near the captain’s office.
I had toured the yacht with my father when he purchased it. He had insisted I know the basic safety systems.
At the time I had laughed.
“Dad, I’m not learning maritime engineering before my wedding.”
“You don't need maritime engineering,” he had said. “You need to know how to ask for help when everything else fails.”
Now those words felt prophetic.
I slipped into a loose cover-up, pushed my feet into sandals, and entered the crew passage.
The main corridor would be too risky.
The service route ran behind the guest cabins toward the galley and bridge.
Halfway there, I heard two crew members approaching.
I stepped into a linen closet and left the door cracked.
“Wind's picking up,” one man said.
“Captain wants everything secured by eleven.”
“Mr. Callahan wants the stern deck left open.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
The voices faded.
My stomach tightened.
Flynn had already given instructions.
When the passage cleared, I continued.
The bridge door was locked.
That surprised me.
Normally it remained accessible while the yacht was underway.
I tried the emergency communications cabinet.
Locked too.
A keypad blinked above the handle.
Flynn hadn’t just disconnected the Wi-Fi.
He had anticipated me attempting to communicate.
That meant this had been planned long before our honeymoon.
I turned.
A young woman stood at the opposite end of the corridor.
I recognized her immediately.
Maya Torres.
Second steward.
Twenty-eight, maybe thirty.
Quiet.
Observant.
She had brought breakfast to my cabin twice.
Now she stared at me.
“Mrs. Callahan?”
My heart jumped.
I leaned against the wall.
“I couldn't sleep.”
Her gaze moved to the locked communication cabinet.
Then back to me.
“Are you feeling okay?”
I considered lying.
Then I saw something in her expression.
Not suspicion.
Concern.
I remembered yesterday morning.
Flynn had handed Maya my coffee and said, “No sugar.”
Maya had looked at him oddly.
Later, when she brought another cup, she had whispered, “I made this one myself.”
I hadn't understood.
Now I did.
“Can I trust you?” I asked.
Her entire posture changed.
“With what?”
I stepped closer.
“My husband is trying to kill me.”
Maya said nothing.
No gasp.
No dramatic reaction.
That frightened me more than disbelief would have.
Finally she said, “Come with me.”
She led me into the laundry room and locked the door.
“What happened?”
I told her only enough.
The pills.
The conversation.
The planned fall.
My parents.
Maya's face tightened when I mentioned the medication.
“I knew something was wrong.”
“What?”
“Mr. Callahan has been personally handling almost everything you eat.”
I stared at her.
“He said you had severe allergies.”
“I don't.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your father sent the crew your medical and dietary information before departure. No allergies. No medications.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“What has Flynn been giving me?”
“I don't know.”
I pulled the two pills from my purse.
Maya examined them.
No markings.
That made my fear worse.
“Can we contact anyone?”
“The bridge communications should work.”
“They're locked.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“They're never locked from guests during an emergency.”
“Can you get inside?”
“Maybe.”
She looked toward the door.
“But we have another problem.”
“What?”
“The captain left the bridge twenty minutes ago.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
She hesitated.
“And Mr. Callahan's father has been asking questions about man-overboard procedures since this morning.”
My blood turned cold.
The family was controlling the yacht piece by piece.
“Who can we trust?”
“Chief engineer, maybe. Two deckhands. Captain Reed, if we find him.”
“Maybe?”
“I don't know who's being paid.”
That answer terrified me.
I had grown up around money.
I knew what large amounts of it could do.
Three hundred million dollars was enough to turn ordinary weakness into catastrophic betrayal.
Maya suddenly touched my arm.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Yesterday I found one of your drinks in the pantry after you sent it back.”
She opened a cabinet and removed a small sealed plastic bag.
Inside was a cocktail napkin and a half-full miniature glass bottle.
“I kept some.”
“Why?”
“Because the drink smelled wrong.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Can that prove anything?”
“Maybe at a lab.”
If we survived.
I put the bag into my purse.
“Tonight Flynn thinks I’m drugged.”
“Then keep letting him think it.”
“You believe me?”
Maya stared directly at me.
“My sister was in a controlling relationship for six years. Men who think they own women all use different methods, but they look at them the same way.”
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Three slow taps.
Maya's face went pale.
“Who is it?”
Flynn answered.
“It's me.”
My heart stopped.
“Have you seen my wife?”
Maya looked at me.
The laundry room had no second exit.
Flynn knocked again.
“Maya?”
I whispered, “Tell him I'm sick.”
She opened the door just enough to step into the hallway.
“I think Mrs. Callahan went back to her cabin.”
“You think?”
“She asked for ginger tea about ten minutes ago.”
Silence.
Then Flynn said, “Interesting.”
I held my breath.
“Because I just came from the cabin.”
Maya didn't speak.
“So I'll ask again.”
His voice had lost its warmth.
“Where is my wife?”
I looked around frantically.
Industrial washers.
Shelves.
Laundry carts.
Then I saw the dumbwaiter service hatch used to send linens between decks.
Small.
Very small.
But maybe large enough.
I opened it quietly.
Maya raised her voice.
“She may have gone to the upper lounge.”
That was my cue.
I climbed inside.
The metal platform creaked under my weight.
Outside, Flynn said, “Open the laundry room.”
Maya blocked him.
“You can't just—”
He pushed past her.
I pulled the hatch closed and hit the lower-deck button.
The platform dropped.
I heard the door open above.
Then Flynn’s voice echoed faintly through the shaft.
“Evelyn?”
I pressed myself against the wall.
The dumbwaiter descended.
Deck by deck.
When it stopped, I pushed open the hatch and crawled into a storage room near the engine compartment.
My hands were shaking.
Then I heard something behind me.
A groan.
I turned.
A man was lying between two storage crates.
Captain Reed.
His wrists were bound.
Blood ran from a wound near his temple.
I rushed toward him.
“Captain?”
His eyes opened.
“Mrs. Callahan?”
“What happened?”
He struggled to sit.
“Your husband.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did he do?”
“He offered me half a million dollars to falsify the ship’s log after you went overboard.”
I stared at him.
“I refused.”
Captain Reed swallowed painfully.
“That's when your father-in-law hit me.”
Above us, thunder rolled across the ocean.
Then the captain grabbed my wrist.
“You need to listen carefully.”
“What?”
“This isn't their first attempt.”
I froze.
May you like
He looked straight into my eyes.
“Your husband tried to kill you before the wedding.”
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