Chapter 5 - THE SOVEREIGN
Lydia survived.
The driver had been sent to bring her to a private airport.
Police arrived before he could remove her from the property.
He claimed Victor merely wanted his wife relocated for her safety.
Lydia told police otherwise.
For the first time in thirty-two years, she made an official statement.
That changed everything.
Not enough.
But everything starts somewhere.
The ship continued toward Nassau.
Marcus had been formally suspended.
The captain refused to reverse course without corporate authorization.
Eric Dalton walked freely again.
And Gregory was suddenly no longer detained.
I discovered that when he entered the ship's private lounge wearing a clean shirt and a smug expression.
Two security men stood behind him.
Neither belonged to Marcus.
Gregory touched the bruise forming near his wrist.
“You embarrassed me.”
I stayed seated.
“You attacked me with a bat.”
“That's your version.”
“My watch says otherwise.”
His eyes flickered.
There it was.
He hadn’t known.
I smiled.
“That was the moment you should have learned to read résumés and accessories.”
His jaw tightened.
“A recording doesn't change anything.”
“It changes a lot.”
“My father owns people who decide what recordings mean.”
I stood.
“That sentence should look excellent in court.”
He laughed.
“You still think there's going to be a court.”
Marcus had warned me not to engage Gregory alone.
I wasn't alone.
Three passengers sat nearby.
A bartender stood ten feet away.
Public spaces create witnesses.
Gregory noticed.
That was why he kept smiling.
No bat now.
No threats he thought anyone could prove.
He lowered his voice.
“You're getting on the helicopter tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Ashlynn.”
“No.”
“We're married.”
“Not for long.”
Something changed in his eyes.
The smile vanished.
“You don't decide that.”
“Yes, Gregory.”
I leaned closer.
“That is almost exactly how divorce works.”
He grabbed my wrist.
I looked down.
Then back at him.
He released it.
Smartest decision he had made all day.
“Dad says we can fix this.”
“I don't want to fix it.”
“You're emotional.”
“I am remarkably calm.”
“You love me.”
That sentence almost hurt.
Because I had.
Or I had loved the person he manufactured.
“You're confusing who you pretended to be with who you are.”
His face tightened.
“Marriage requires forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness isn't permission.”
He stared.
Then lowered his voice further.
“You have no idea what happens to people who humiliate my family.”
“Rebecca did.”
He froze.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
“You know her.”
“I dated lots of women.”
“Where is she?”
“No idea.”
“Last time anyone confirmed Rebecca Shaw was alive, she was on your father's yacht.”
Gregory’s face went blank.
Too blank.
I had seen that expression during interrogative training scenarios.
Not confusion.
Containment.
“What happened on the Sovereign?”
His eyes hardened.
“Who told you that name?”
“Your mother.”
That landed.
He stepped backward.
“My mother doesn't know anything.”
“She knows enough.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Yes.”
Gregory reached for his phone.
I smiled.
“Call your father.”
His hand stopped.
“Tell him Lydia talked.”
Gregory stared at me.
For the first time, I saw something behind his arrogance.
Fear.
Not of me.
Of Victor.
Gregory turned and walked away.
Too quickly.
I returned to Marcus.
He was in a crew storage room that had become our unofficial operations center.
“What did Gregory do when you mentioned Rebecca?”
“Panicked.”
Marcus nodded.
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because people who panic make mistakes.”
He turned his laptop.
Marine tracking data filled the screen.
“The Sovereign.”
A yacht marker sat near Nassau.
“How did you find it?”
“Lydia gave us the corporate registry chain.”
“Who owns it?”
“Six shell companies.”
“Actual owner?”
“Victor.”
My stomach tightened.
“Can authorities board?”
“Not without proper jurisdiction or cause.”
“We have a missing woman.”
“Four years old.”
“We have Lydia’s statement.”
“Which helps.”
He zoomed in.
“There's more.”
“What?”
“The Sovereign has already left Nassau.”
“Where is it going?”
“Toward us.”
I stared at the screen.
Victor wasn't waiting for the ship.
He was coming himself.
Three hours later, the yacht appeared off our starboard side.
White.
Enormous.
Elegant.
It looked less like a pleasure craft than a floating mansion.
A helicopter sat on its upper deck.
Passengers took photographs.
Most assumed some billionaire was showing off.
They were right.
They just didn't know which billionaire.
My phone rang.
Victor.
I answered.
“Enjoying the view?”
“You're becoming predictable.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Then you'll know what happens next.”
“I don't get on your yacht.”
Victor laughed.
“You don't have to.”
A pause.
“Gregory already is.”
I turned toward Marcus.
“What?”
Victor continued.
“My son decided this honeymoon had become unpleasant.”
“Good.”
“He also brought something with him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Your passport.”
I checked my handbag.
Gone.
“Your wallet.”
Gone.
“Your backup phone.”
I hadn't noticed.
Victor continued.
“And the storage card from the camera in your cabin.”
I closed my eyes.
He had been inside the suite after I left.
Or someone had.
“You see the problem?”
“No.”
“You think this is about whether Gregory frightened you with a baseball bat.”
Victor's voice became almost gentle.
“It isn't.”
“What is it about?”
“Control of evidence.”
“I have the watch recording.”
“Yes.”
“And Lydia has her own evidence.”
Silence.
Victor hadn’t expected me to say that.
I smiled.
“She told you?”
“Enough.”
Victor recovered quickly.
“My wife is confused.”
“She sounds clearer than she has in thirty years.”
“That is none of your concern.”
“You made it my concern when your son repeated your lessons.”
The line went quiet.
Then Victor said:
“You have thirty minutes.”
“For what?”
“Come aboard the Sovereign.”
“No.”
“I'll return your documents.”
“No.”
“And I'll tell you what happened to Rebecca Shaw.”
Marcus looked at me.
He had heard.
Victor continued.
“If you don't come…”
A pause.
“…you will never know whether Rebecca left my yacht alive.”
The call ended.
I stared through the glass at the Sovereign cutting through the water alongside our cruise ship.
Marcus spoke first.
“You're not going.”
“I know.”
He looked surprised.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
I smiled faintly.
“Victor thinks he just gave me leverage.”
“No.”
I looked at the yacht.
“He gave us probable cause.”
Because people who believe they own the game eventually become careless enough to explain the rules.
May you like
And Victor Hartman had just connected himself directly to a missing woman.
On a recorded call.
