Chapter 2 - The Yacht in Nassau
Two thousand miles south, the turquoise swells of the Caribbean lapped gently against the white fiberglass hull of the Sea Sovereign, an eighty-foot charter yacht moored off Paradise Island.
David Vance sat on the teak aft deck, wearing linen shorts and designer sunglasses that cost more than two months of Lily’s private school tuition. The salt breeze ruffled his sun-bleached hair as a steward set down a fresh glass of freshly squeezed guava juice and a plate of sliced papaya. David stretched his arms over his head, inhaling deeply. He felt renewed. Sophisticated. Unburdened.
For six months, he had complained to his private networking groups that domestic life was draining his masculine vitality. Sarah was too practical. She worried about mundane things—mortgage refinances, pediatric checkups, the budget for Lily’s speech therapy sessions. She didn't look at him with the breathless, wide-eyed adoration she had possessed when they were twenty-four and he was still pretending to be a brilliant young founder.
""Did you sleep well, baby?""
A voice like spun sugar drifted from the companionway. Julianne Mercer emerged into the sunlight, wearing a tiny white crochet bikini and holding a tube of high-end tanning oil. At twenty-five, she was a certified Pilates instructor at the Gold Coast health club David frequented. She had spent the last three months telling David how brilliant he was, how misunderstood his visionary mind remained, and how criminal it was that an ordinary woman like Sarah held him back from his true potential.
""Never better,"" David smiled, sliding his sunglasses down his nose to look her up and down with blatant ownership. ""No alarms. No conference calls. No whining.""
Julianne giggled, settling onto the plush lounger beside him and letting him rub tanning lotion into her shoulder blades. ""Did your wife ever stop texting you? You were so annoyed last night.""
David scoffed, tossing his phone onto the low teak table between them. ""She sent about forty texts in three hours. Sent me some generic picture of an emergency room waiting area to guilt-trip me. She does that every time I take personal time. Total manufactured drama because she can't stand seeing me live independently.""
""It's classic emotional manipulation,"" Julianne agreed, purring as David’s fingers moved down her back. ""Some women just don't know how to let a high-value man breathe. You provide an incredible mansion in Winnetka, you pay all the bills, and she still acts like you owe her your soul.""
""Exactly,"" David said, taking a sip of his juice. ""I sent her a firm boundary at dawn. Told her straight up: handle your own life unless someone is literally dying.""
Julianne laughed, her teeth dazzling white in the Caribbean glare. ""You're so savage, David. What did she say to that?""
David picked up the phone, tapped the screen, and unlocked it. He expected a long, rambling paragraph of apologies, or perhaps a tearful voice memo begging for forgiveness and promising to be a better partner when he returned. Instead, his notification banner showed the final two words Sarah had sent before he shut off the data roaming.
SHE IS.
David frowned slightly. The screen went blank.
""What is it?"" Julianne asked, noticing the momentary pause.
""Nothing,"" David dismissed, shaking his head and sliding the phone back into his tote bag. ""Just Sarah being dramatic as usual. Trying to make me panic so I book a private jet back to O'Hare and ruin our second week. She thinks if she uses extreme words, I'll come crawling home.""
""Well, you're not going to, right?"" Julianne pouted, running a manicured French-tipped fingernail down his forearm. ""You promised we were going scuba diving at the Exuma Cays on Thursday. You promised me this week was ours.""
David smiled, burying any creeping pang of paternal hesitation beneath a thick layer of narcissistic arrogance. He had already funded this trip with the company card. He had earned this break. If Lily had an ear infection or a seasonal flu, Sarah had health insurance and a minivan; she could sit in an urgent care lobby like any other suburban housewife.
""Of course I'm not leaving,"" David murmured, leaning over to kiss Julianne’s bare collarbone. ""I run that house. Sarah won't go anywhere. She knows which side her bread is buttered on. We stay until Sunday.""
May you like
He picked up his phone, switched the power off completely, and dropped it to the bottom of his beach bag.
Across the clear blue water, a flock of white seabirds skimmed the waves. David closed his eyes, tilted his face to the tropical sun, and let himself believe he was the undisputed king of his world.
