Chapter 2 - Bloodlines and Blackmail
By 8:00 PM, the Caribbean sky had turned the color of bruised plums. The barometer in the suite’s antique console was plunging rapidly. Outside the reinforced portholes, sixty-knot gusts whipped whitecaps across black ocean water, and the swell rose to an ominous twelve feet. The yacht rolled heavily, exactly the kind of treacherous weather Flynn needed to make an accidental fall overboard look plausible to an maritime inquest.
I needed to move, but Flynn had locked the primary suite door from the exterior.
Fortunately, he had never read the boat’s architectural schematics.
Beneath the master suite’s cedar-lined walk-in closet lay an emergency access hatch designed for bilge pump maintenance and fire escape routes. I pried off the decorative brass floor grating using an antique silver shoehorn from my dressing kit. The narrow hatch opened with a silent hiss of pneumatic rubber seals. Dropping into the narrow service crawlway beneath the deck, I crawled on hands and knees through the dark, listening to the deafening roar of the ocean crashing against the hull just inches below me.
Ten minutes of agonizing maneuvering brought me to the junction beneath the auxiliary wheelhouse. I popped the service vent open and slipped into the lower crew corridor.
Suddenly, quiet voices echoed from the mess hall.
“Look, we don’t have a choice,” a voice said. It was Marcus, the yacht’s second mate. “Flynn transferred fifty grand into my crypto wallet this morning. He said if I kill the exterior CCTV recorder for fifteen minutes around midnight, another hundred grand hits my account when we dock in Miami. If I say no, he tells the Coast Guard about the contraband I smuggled into St. Thomas last spring.”
“You’re an idiot, Marcus,” another voice snapped. It was Captain Campbell—stern, gray-haired, and unwavering. “Mr. Reynolds built this company from scratch. He treated you like a son when your mother was sick. And you’re going to help a two-bit parasite murder his only daughter for blood money?”
“He showed me the signed power of attorney, Captain!” Marcus panicked. “Elena gave him total control over the offshore trust! He runs the estate now! If we cross him, he will ruin us!”
“He didn't give him anything,” I whispered, stepping around the corner into the dim light of the crew mess.
Both men spun around, their faces draining of color. Marcus dropped his coffee mug, shattering it on the rubberized flooring. Captain Campbell’s eyes flared with shock, quickly shifting to pure fury when he saw my smeared makeup and the bruised veins on my arms from where Flynn had held me down to drink his poisoned broths.
“Miss Elena…” Campbell breathed, rushing forward to steady me. “My God, child. Flynn told us you had a severe relapse of tropical fever and were under heavy sedation.”
“He is drugging me, Captain,” I said, looking straight into the terrified eyes of Marcus. “And he’s planning to throw me off the stern at 11:45 PM tonight. Then next week, his associates are arranged to tamper with the brakes on my parents’ car in Aspen.”
Marcus fell to his knees, trembling. “Miss Elena… I swear, I didn't know about your parents! He just said you were suffering from severe depression and that he needed privacy to manage your breakdown!”
“Save it, Marcus,” I said, my voice razor-sharp. “Flynn’s family is upstairs drinking my father’s Dom Pérignon, laughing about how gullible I was. Now, you have two choices. You can either stay on his payroll and face twenty-five to life for conspiracy to commit first-degree murder, or you can give me access to the auxiliary satellite router and do exactly what I tell you.”
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Marcus looked at Captain Campbell, then looked back at me, tears welling in his eyes. He frantically nodded. “Whatever you need, ma'am. Whatever you need.”
“First,” I commanded, turning to the Captain. “Get me a secure encrypted line to my father’s private security chief in New York. Second, let’s ensure that every deck camera Flynn thinks is turned off is actually broadcasting on high definition. If my husband wants an audience for his performance, I’m going to make sure the entire world gets a front-row seat.”
