Chapter 18 - BACK TO FLORIDA
By late afternoon, the Florida coastline appeared again.
I had never imagined I would feel relief seeing it.
Gregory had been moved to a secure holding area.
Martin was kept separately.
Elaine remained with Celia.
Victor was receiving medical treatment.
Ortiz barely slept.
Neither did I.
When the ship entered port, federal investigators, local law enforcement, and maritime authorities were waiting.
Passengers lined balconies with their phones.
Rumors had spread.
Everyone knew something had happened.
Very few knew what.
Gregory was escorted off first.
He saw me behind the security barrier.
For a moment, the charming man from our wedding photographs returned.
“Ashlynn.”
I said nothing.
“We can still fix this.”
I almost admired the insanity of it.
“What exactly would we fix?”
“Our marriage.”
Celia laughed from behind me.
Gregory’s face changed.
Then Elaine stepped beside her.
His expression changed again.
Three women.
Three versions of the truth he had spent years controlling.
“You betrayed me,” he told his mother.
Elaine shook her head.
“No.”
“I finally stopped betraying myself.”
Gregory was taken away.
Martin followed.
He looked calmer.
More dangerous.
He stopped near me.
“You think tonight destroyed me?”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I think the evidence did.”
He smiled.
“You still don’t understand power.”
“Maybe.”
Then I glanced toward the officers surrounding him.
“But I understand handcuffs.”
For the first time, Martin had no answer.
Hours later, investigators informed me that Simon Pike had been arrested at his home.
They recovered draft transfer agreements from his encrypted computer.
Multiple versions carried signatures belonging to women connected to Hartman family members.
Not just mine.
Not just Celia’s.
There had been others.
Some had lost businesses.
Some had lost property.
Some had accepted settlements and disappeared quietly.
The Hartman method had been operating for decades.
Marriage.
Pressure.
Isolation.
Documents.
Threats.
Silence.
Gregory had not invented the system.
He had inherited it.
Then my attorney called.
A judge had temporarily frozen Hartman Capital assets connected to the suspected fraud.
Dalton Maritime’s board scheduled an emergency meeting.
My uncle’s shares were secure.
For the first time since the cabin door locked, I exhaled.
Then Ortiz approached.
“We found Bell.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A motel outside Fort Lauderdale.”
“Did he surrender?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“No.”
“Someone left him tied to a chair.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“He doesn’t know.”
That made no sense.
Then Ortiz handed me a photograph recovered from Bell’s room.
It showed Martin Hartman shaking hands with another man.
I recognized the second man instantly.
He had stood beside me at my wedding.
He had hugged me after the ceremony.
He had told me my uncle would have been proud.
May you like
My own attorney.
Thomas Grant.
