PART 3
Once the voices below faded, I dragged myself back to the nightstand, grabbed the glass of drugged water Flynn had left me, and poured every drop down the bathroom sink. I replaced it with fresh tap water, smeared a small smudge of white powder on the rim to look untouched, and crawled under the covers just as the suite door clicked open.
Flynn walked in, his face a mask of soft, gentle concern.
“Mabel, sweetie? How are you feeling?” he purred, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He reached out, gently caressing my cheek. I had to summon every ounce of willpower not to bite his finger off.
“So dizzy, Flynn…” I slurred, keeping my eyes half-lidded, acting completely incapacitated. “The water… tastes bitter…”
“It’s just the electrolytes, darling,” he lied smoothly, kissing my forehead. “Sleep now. I’ll wake you up later for some fresh air.”
The second he turned his back and stepped out of the suite, I sat up. The recording was saved on the burner phone.
I picked up the secure satellite connection device connected to my father’s private security network. I dialed the one number I knew by heart—my father’s head of security, a former Navy SEAL who had protected our family for twenty years.
“Mabel?” the low voice answered on the second ring.
“They’re drugging me,” I whispered, my voice tight and razor-sharp. “Flynn, Aidan, and Fiona. They plan to throw me overboard at midnight and stage a car crash for Mom and Dad next week. I have a full audio recording of the conspiracy.”
There was an immediate, terrifying beat of silence on the line.
“Give me your GPS coordinates, Mabel,” he commanded flatly. “We are forty minutes out on the secondary intercept vessel. Stay down. Do not consume anything. Can you make it thirty minutes?”
“I’ll play the victim until the very last second,” I answered. “Bring heavy restraints.”
FINAL PART
At 11:45 PM, the sky turned ink-black, and a fierce squall began to rock the yacht.
Flynn entered the bedroom. Without a word, he pulled me out of bed. I played completely limp, letting my feet drag across the floor, slurring incomprehensible words as he wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me out onto the slippery, rain-slicked aft deck.
Aidan and Fiona were waiting near the stern railing, wrapped in dark raincoats, their eyes gleaming with cold, murderous greed.
“Is she under?” Fiona hissed over the roar of the wind.
“She can barely hold her head up,” Flynn sneered. The gentle, loving husband was completely gone; in his place stood a monster. He dragged me to the edge, lifting my feet toward the lower railing. “Goodbye, Mabel. Thanks for the 300 million.”
“Wait,” I whispered softly.
Flynn paused, a cruel smirk touching his lips. “What was that, sweetheart? Want to say your last words?”
I straightened my spine, locked my knees, and looked him dead in the eye with complete, icy sobriety.
“I said… look up.”
Before Flynn could process my words, a deafening roar shattered the storm. Four blinding spotlights illuminated the deck from above as a massive tactical helicopter hovered directly over the yacht.
At the exact same moment, three high-speed Coast Guard interceptor boats emerged from the darkness, surrounding the yacht, their sirens blaring across the water.
Armed tactical officers rappelled down onto the teak deck, weapons raised.
“U.S. COAST GUARD! NOBODY MOVE! DROP TO THE DECK NOW!”
Flynn shrieked, stumbling backward in terror, dropping me onto the floorboards. Aidan tried to run toward the cabin, but two officers tackled him to the deck, slamming his face into the wet wood. Fiona fell to her knees, weeping hysterically, her hands raised in absolute terror.
