My honeymoon took an unexpected turn when I returned to our room early. I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. Suddenly, everything about my marriage changed.

My stomach violently heaved. I clamped both hands over my mouth to stifle a sob, my fingernails biting deeply into my palms. They were drinking my father’s champagne on my father’s yacht, toasting to the eradication of my entire family.

The drugs were surging back through my veins, the heavy fog threatening to pull me under. The ocean roared outside, waiting.

Just a few hours left until midnight. Alone, in international waters, surrounded by predators masquerading as family… what must I do to survive?

PART 2
I pinched the tender skin of my thighs mercilessly, using the localized pain to stave off the sedatives. Crawling back into my suite, I dug beneath a pile of designer sweaters and popped open a false bottom I had designed into my luggage. Inside lay a prepaid burner phone equipped with an unregistered SIM card—a paranoid precaution my father had insisted I carry.

I activated the voice recorder app, slipped the device deep into the pocket of my robe, and staggered toward the glass balcony doors. Our suite’s terrace sat directly above the main lounge area. Dropping flat onto the cold teak floorboards, I pressed myself against the railing. The salty, freezing wind whipped my face, but the microphone picked up the voices below flawlessly.