I pressed one button.
Then another.
A tiny green light appeared.
I whispered the emergency code my father had taught me years ago.
“Orchid seven. Family emergency. Maritime threat. Immediate extraction.”
Then I added one final message.
Do not contact the yacht. Assume everyone onboard is compromised.
I attached the audio recording I had secretly started before returning to the suite.
Their voices.
Every word.
Every plan.
Every mention of the three hundred million dollars.
Every detail about my parents’ supposed “accident.”
Then I hit SEND.
The device flashed once.
TRANSMISSION SECURED.
I exhaled.
But I wasn’t safe yet.
I still needed proof they couldn’t destroy.
Lucas’s phone was sitting on the desk.
He had left it behind while celebrating downstairs.
I picked it up.
The screen was locked.
But Lucas had made one mistake.
He had used the same six-digit code for everything.
Our wedding anniversary.
The phone opened.
My blood ran cold.
There were photographs of legal documents.
Power-of-attorney forms.
Bank transfers.
Passport copies.
Messages with someone named Naomi Vance.
I opened the conversation.
Naomi: “You promised me she wouldn’t survive the honeymoon.”
Lucas: “Relax. You’re next after the money clears.”
My stomach turned.
There were dozens of women.
Names.
Photographs.
Bank balances.
Property records.
Marriage certificates.
Death certificates.
They weren’t just planning to kill me.
They had done this before.
I quickly transferred everything to the encrypted server connected to my emergency device.
Then I heard footsteps.
