Chapter 2 - The Tear on the DeckThe entire deck went dead, breathlessly quiet.
Cassandra Vale let out a dry, rattling gasp, her knees buckling slightly beneath her silver designer gown. She clutched the brass railing behind her, her manicured fingers digging into the metal as her eyes bulged out of her head.
"The... the owner...?" Cassandra choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "No... no, that's impossible! The Vance-Moretti family lives in London and New York! She... she was wearing a plain ivory silk dress! She didn't even have jewelry on!"
"I chose a plain dress because I came to inspect my father's newly restored flagship without turning it into a media circus, Cassandra," I spoke cleanly into the quiet night.
My voice wasn't loud. It carried an unyielding, velvet power that held every billionaire, socialite, and corporate executive on the deck spellbound.
I reached down with my left hand, holding the torn seam of my silk dress against my side—the seam Cassandra had ripped open two minutes ago for her livestream audience.
"My father built this vessel twelve years ago," I continued, stepping slowly toward her across the teak floorboards, my hazel eyes locking onto her pale face with a cold, absolute heat. "He placed that silver star in the teak beside the staircase in memory of my mother. And tonight... you threw cheap champagne across my face and ripped my dress open on the deck my family built."
Cassandra’s father, Arthur Vale—a fifty-eight-year-old corporate logistics developer who had spent three years begging my family's firm for a secondary port contract—pushed frantically through the crowd of guests.
His face was flushed with an ugly, sweat-slicked terror as he took in the sight of his daughter backed against the railing and Captain Laurent standing beside me like a royal guard.
"Elena! Mademoiselle Vance!" Arthur Vale cried out, dropping flat onto his knees right on the damp teak deck beside his daughter, his hands clutching together in total, groveling surrender. "Forgive her! Please, I beg of you! Cassandra didn't know who you were! She's young! She's foolish! She was just trying to grow her social media following!"
"She is twenty-four years old, Mr. Vale," I replied deadpan, looking down at the weeping developer. "She is old enough to know that actions have consequences."
I turned my head toward Captain Laurent.
"Captain Laurent," I commanded softly.
"Yes, Mademoiselle?"
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"Clear the upper deck," I ordered flatly. "And contact my estate attorney, Rachel Vance, in London. The Vale Logistics distribution contract is terminated as of this second."
Arthur Vale let out a guttural, frantic shriek, burying his face in his hands on the teak floorboards as his entire corporate fortune vanished into thin air before his eyes.
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