Chapter 3 - The Trapdoor11:40 PM.
The heavy mahogany stateroom door unlocked with a sharp click.
I was lying flat on my back under the duvet, eyes half-closed, breathing in slow, exaggerated rhythms. The cabin was pitch-black except for the ambient blue glow of the digital clock reading 11:42.
The door eased open. Flynn stepped inside, moving silently in soft-soled loafers.
"Chloe?" he whispered, leaning over the bed.
I didn't answer. I let my head loll limply to the side, maintaining the illusion of a heavy, chemical slumber.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmured, his hands sliding under my shoulders to haul me upright with rough impatience. The gentle, adoring husband was entirely gone now; the cold, calculating opportunist had taken his place. "Time for that fresh air. Come on, don't make this difficult."
He threw a heavy woolen sailor's coat over my shoulders, roughly hauling me out of bed. My legs wobbled dramatically, but beneath the coat, my fingers were curled tightly around the heavy brass doorstop I had retrieved from my vanity.
We stepped out into the dimly lit corridor. The luxury yacht was pitching heavily now; the squall mentioned earlier had arrived early, sending dark, violent swells crashing against the hull. The hallways were entirely deserted—the crew had been ordered below deck hours ago by Aidan, leaving the upper pathways completely unguarded.
As we climbed the narrow spiral stairs leading to the deserted aft deck, the wind screamed through the rigging like a banshee, tearing at our hair and whipping salt spray across the polished teak floorboards.
"Isn't it beautiful, Chloe?" Flynn shouted over the roar of the ocean, steering me toward the very edge of the stern where the safety railing dropped away into the black, churning abyss of the Atlantic. "Just look at the horizon. So peaceful."
He stopped at the railing, turning me around so my back faced the open sea. The cold wind bit into my face, but my veins were running with liquid fire.
"You know, Chloe," Flynn said, his voice dripping with condescension as he rested his hands casually on my shoulders, leaning in close to my ear. "You were always a bit too trusting. A bit too blind. You and your billionaire daddy thought you could buy anything—even a husband. But some things can't be bought. They have to be stolen."
I didn't tremble. I let my chin drop, playing the helpless victim right up to the final second. "Flynn... why? I loved you."
He let out a cold, barking laugh. "Love doesn't pay for Swiss chalets and sports cars, sweetheart. Now... let your father say hello to the waves for you."
His hands shoved forward with sudden, violent force, aiming straight between my shoulder blades to send me flying over the low brass railing into the dark water below.
It was the biggest mistake of his life.
Instead of going limp, I instantly dropped my center of gravity, pivoting hard on my heel and swinging my right elbow backward with every ounce of adrenaline in my body.
Crack.
My elbow connected squarely with his jawline. Flynn stumbled back with a sharp cry of shock, his grip slipping off my coat.
Before he could recover his balance, I whipped around, raised the heavy brass doorstop in my right hand, and brought it down hard across the bridge of his nose.
May you like
Blood sprayed instantly across the white teak deck. Flynn shrieked, clutching his face, stumbling backward against the very railing he had intended for me.
"You—you bitch!" he roared, blood pouring between his fingers, his eyes wide with utter disbelief as he lunged forward to grab my throat.
