Chapter 5 - The Woman My Husband Planned to Replace Me WithCaptain Reed took Evelyn’s phone.
No music.
No crew.
No engine noise loud enough to cover what might happen.
Only the ocean.
Grant led me along the starboard deck beneath a black sky glittering with stars.
The moon was thin.
The rail gleamed silver.
Beyond it was nothing.
Miles of dark water.
I held Grant’s hand because refusing would have told him too much.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“Cold.”
He stopped.
“Want my jacket?”
“You don’t have one.”
Grant laughed softly.
“True.”
11:51 p.m.
I had eight minutes until Evelyn activated the emergency beacon.
Grant moved behind me and rested both hands on my shoulders.
I nearly jumped.
“Look at that,” he whispered.
I stared at the horizon.
“What?”
“The sky.”
His body was inches behind mine.
I felt his breath against my hair.
For one terrible moment, I imagined his hands moving forward.
One push.
That was all.
Instead, he kissed my shoulder.
“Do you remember the first night we met?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Why?
Then I understood.
He wanted me distracted.
“We were at Daniel Foster’s fundraiser.”
“You hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“You called me arrogant.”
“You were arrogant.”
He laughed.
His hands slid down my arms.
11:53.
I needed to keep him talking.
“And you spilled wine on me.”
“You bumped into me.”
“You walked backward.”
“Because you were staring at me.”
“You wish.”
Grant turned me around.
His smile vanished.
“Do you love me, Claire?”
The question hit harder than I expected.
I looked at the man I had loved for four years.
The man I had trusted enough to marry.
Did some part of me still love the version I thought existed?
Probably.
But that man had never been real.
“I did,” I said.
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“Did?”
My heart stopped.
I corrected myself immediately.
“I do.”
Silence.
Then he smiled again.
“Good.”
11:54.
Where was Evelyn?
Grant pulled a silver flask from his pocket.
“Champagne?”
“I’ve had enough.”
“One sip.”
“No.”
His expression shifted.
Very slightly.
“Claire.”
“I’m nauseous.”
“I thought you felt better.”
“I did.”
He opened the flask.
“Then drink.”
My pulse hammered.
There was something in it.
More sedative, most likely.
I shook my head playfully.
“You first.”
Grant stared at me.
Then laughed.
“You’re suspicious tonight.”
“I’m the bride. I’m allowed.”
He brought the flask toward his lips.
But didn’t drink.
Instead he lowered it.
“You know what I love about you?”
“What?”
“You always think you’re smarter than everyone.”
A chill moved through me.
11:55.
“Grant—”
“Like when your father warned you about me.”
My breath caught.
“He never warned me.”
“Oh, he did.”
His smile disappeared.
“He just didn’t say it to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He hired someone to investigate me before we got engaged.”
I stared.
“I found the report.”
My father had never told me.
Grant stepped closer.
“Did you know that?”
“No.”
“I figured.”
11:56.
“Grant, why are we talking about my father?”
“Because men like Richard Callahan believe money gives them the right to decide who belongs in their family.”
His voice had changed.
The warmth vanished.
Something old and bitter replaced it.
“He called me opportunistic.”
“Maybe he was right.”
The sentence escaped before I could stop it.
Grant’s face hardened.
Too late.
He grabbed my wrist.
Not violently.
Not yet.
But tightly.
“What did you say?”
Fear surged through me.
I forced a laugh.
“Nothing.”
His grip tightened.
“You said maybe he was right.”
“I’m dizzy.”
Grant stared into my eyes.
And I saw the moment he understood.
The slightest widening.
The complete disappearance of affection.
His hand moved to my jaw.
“What do you know?”
11:57.
I tried to pull back.
He held me.
“Grant, you’re hurting me.”
“What do you know?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stop lying.”
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Marcus appeared.
Then Devon.
Both men stopped near the doorway.
My heart sank.
Three against one.
Grant leaned close.
“Were you outside the salon this afternoon?”
“No.”
He smiled without humor.
“Wrong answer.”
He shoved me backward.
My spine hit the railing.
Dark ocean opened behind me.
I screamed.
Marcus looked away.
Devon didn’t.
Grant pinned me against the rail.
“You heard us.”
“Grant—”
“How much?”
“Let me go.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Everything.”
Silence.
Then Grant exhaled.
Almost disappointed.
“I really hoped you hadn’t.”
11:58.
A faint vibration buzzed beneath my shoulder.
The locator.
Activated.
Evelyn had done it.
Help was coming.
But Grant didn’t know.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“I actually do.”
“No. You can walk away.”
“And spend the rest of my life in prison?”
“If you let me go, I won’t—”
“Don’t insult me.”
He looked toward Marcus.
“Check the corridor.”
Marcus disappeared.
Grant looked back at me.
“You want to know the saddest part?”
I said nothing.
“I almost changed my mind.”
That hurt.
Because for half a second, I believed him.
Then he laughed.
“No. I didn’t.”
He pushed harder.
My upper body bent backward over the railing.
I screamed.
“Grant!”
Devon stepped forward.
“Man, maybe we should—”
“Back off.”
“You said she’d be unconscious.”
“Plans change.”
Devon looked pale.
Grant reached for my waist.
I kicked him.
My heel struck his knee.
He cursed and stumbled.
I ran.
Three steps.
Marcus reappeared and blocked the doorway.
I turned.
Grant came after me.
11:59.
He grabbed my dress and ripped the fabric at my shoulder.
The recorder nearly came loose.
His eyes landed on it.
Everything stopped.
“What is that?”
I covered it instinctively.
Grant ripped it away.
The tiny recorder landed on the deck.
He stared at it.
Then at me.
His face transformed.
Not fear.
Rage.
“You recorded me?”
I backed toward the rail.
Grant stomped on the recorder.
Plastic cracked beneath his shoe.
Then a voice behind him said:
“That wasn’t the only one.”
Evelyn stood in the doorway.
She held her phone up.
Recording.
Grant turned.
Captain Reed appeared behind her.
For one second I thought we had won.
Then Reed pressed a pistol against Evelyn’s side.
“Drop the phone.”
My hope vanished.
Evelyn slowly lowered it.
Grant smiled.
“Now,” he said, looking at me, “we finish this.”
May you like
Midnight arrived.
And the emergency beacon began transmitting.
