Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN WHO SURVIVED
Celia had boarded under another name.
Not as a passenger.
As temporary hospitality staff.
She had spent six years building a life far away from the Hartmans.
For the first three years, she told no one she was alive except the man who pulled her from the water that night.
A fisherman found her several miles from the yacht route.
Celia begged him not to contact authorities.
She knew Martin controlled the narrative waiting for her onshore.
She disappeared.
Changed countries.
Changed names.
Then she watched from a distance as Hartman Capital continued expanding.
She also watched Gregory begin appearing publicly with me.
“When she saw your engagement announcement, she panicked,” Victor said.
“Why not contact me directly?”
“She tried.”
I thought back.
Strange emails.
Unknown calls.
A letter delivered to my office that contained only a warning.
Do not let them isolate you after the wedding.
I had assumed it came from an overzealous former girlfriend.
Gregory had laughed when I showed him.
Then he had thrown it away.
Victor sat against the wall.
“Celia knew the honeymoon itinerary.”
“She knew Gregory would choose the sea again.”
Elaine whispered.
“Because he thought it worked once.”
Victor nodded.
Celia had taken a temporary job aboard the Ocean Crown two months earlier.
She discovered Martin’s secret booking.
She discovered the payments to the communications officer.
And she learned about the insurance policy.
Her plan was to collect proof and alert federal authorities when the ship returned to Florida.
Then Gregory pulled the bat.
Everything accelerated.
“Where is Celia now?” I asked.
Victor looked toward Ortiz.
“Medical pantry on Deck Three.”
Ortiz immediately dispatched officers.
The pantry was empty.
One uniform lay on the floor.
A handwritten note had been taped to the cabinet.
HE FOUND ME.
My blood chilled.
Gregory.
The ship-wide search intensified.
A camera recovered from the independent backup system showed Celia leaving Deck Three.
Gregory walked behind her.
He was holding something against her back beneath his jacket.
Not the bat.
A knife taken from a crew galley.
My jaw tightened.
Ortiz looked at me.
“You stay here.”
I hated it.
But she was right.
This was no longer a private confrontation.
It was a criminal emergency.
Then Celia appeared on another camera.
Deck Four.
Then Deck Five.
Gregory was steering her toward a service stairwell.
The next camera showed them emerging on Deck Seven.
He was moving upward.
Toward the exterior decks.
Toward the same darkness where he had intended to take me.
Ortiz’s officers raced for the stairs.
Before they reached Deck Eleven, Gregory’s voice came across the ship’s emergency intercom.
“Ashlynn.”
Every passenger heard him.
“I know you’re listening.”
The ship fell strangely silent.
Then Gregory laughed.
“You want Celia alive?”
May you like
“Come to the aft observation deck.”
“Alone.”
