Chapter 10 - CELIA’S LAST MESSAGE
Elaine finally gave us the reason she had boarded the ship.
Three weeks before my wedding, she received an anonymous email.
There was no message.
Only an audio file.
She assumed it was spam until she pressed play.
The voice belonged to Celia Ward.
Ortiz transferred the recording to the security system.
Static filled the room.
Then a frightened young woman began speaking.
“If anyone finds this, Gregory knows I’m leaving.”
Elaine covered her mouth.
Celia continued.
“He and Martin are trying to force me to sign over my shares.”
I looked at Elaine.
“Shares?”
“Celia inherited part of a medical technology company.”
The pattern became clear.
Gregory had done this before.
Not exactly the same.
But close enough.
Celia’s recording continued.
“They keep saying marriage means I’m part of the Hartman family now.”
“They say family assets stay with family.”
“Gregory has started watching me.”
“He checks my phone.”
“He asks where I am every hour.”
Then came a long pause.
“He brought his father’s bat into the bedroom last night.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
The same bat.
“He didn’t hit me.”
“Not yet.”
“But he told me his father used it to teach his mother obedience.”
I closed my eyes.
Six years later, Gregory had repeated almost the exact sentence to me.
Not spontaneous rage.
Ritual.
A script inherited from one generation to the next.
Celia’s voice became quieter.
“If something happens to me on the yacht, it wasn’t an accident.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Ortiz finally asked Elaine.
“Why did you receive this now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who had the recording?”
“I thought Celia destroyed everything.”
I looked at the file metadata.
The email had been routed through several anonymous servers.
But the original audio creation date was two days before Celia died.
Someone had kept it for six years.
Someone had waited until my wedding to release it.
Ortiz leaned toward the screen.
“Maybe the sender knew Gregory was repeating the pattern.”
Elaine whispered.
“Or maybe someone who was on that yacht survived with the truth.”
The security center door opened.
An officer entered carrying Victor Dane’s abandoned backpack.
They had found it hidden in a laundry cart.
Inside were cash.
A forged crew identification card.
A satellite phone.
And a waterproof envelope.
Ortiz opened it carefully.
There were three passports.
One belonged to Victor.
One belonged to Gregory.
The third carried a woman’s photograph.
May you like
Celia Ward.
But the passport had been issued eighteen months after Celia supposedly died.
