PART 2 - THE SECRET PHONE THAT EXPOSED WHO ELSE WAS MARKED TO DIE

Aidan spoke again.

“And the trust fund? When do we actually get the capital?”

Flynn laughed—a sound I had heard hundreds of times before. Only now I finally understood what lived beneath it.

“I got her signature on the power of attorney before the wedding.”

My mind raced backward.

The stack of documents Flynn had brought me two days before the ceremony.

Insurance. Marriage paperwork. Estate planning.

“Just boring legal stuff,” he had said with that irresistible smile.

And I had signed.

Because I loved him.

Because I trusted him.

“Once the authorities declare her lost at sea,” Flynn continued, “three hundred million dollars will disappear into my Swiss accounts.”

Three hundred million.

My inheritance.

The money my father had spent decades building.

Fiona gave a delighted laugh.

“Brilliant. That pathetic heiress actually believes she married Prince Charming.”

Something inside my chest shattered.

But there was worse to come.

Aidan lowered his voice.

“What about her parents?”

I went completely still.

Flynn answered without hesitation.

“They head to the mountains next week. My guys are already waiting.”

I covered my mouth.

“A tragic brake failure on an icy pass,” Flynn continued, “and the entire Sterling family reunites in heaven.”

My knees gave way.

They weren’t only planning to murder me.

They were going to kill my mother and father, too.

Below me, glasses clinked again.

“To new beginnings,” Fiona said cheerfully.

“To three hundred million,” Aidan replied.

Flynn laughed.

“To freedom.”

A wave of dizziness slammed into me. Whatever Flynn had put in my soup was taking effect fast.

I forced myself upright and began creeping backward toward my suite.

Slowly.

Silently.

Below me, Flynn’s chair scraped against the deck.

“Where are you going?” Fiona asked.

“To check on my beautiful wife,” Flynn said.

Footsteps approached the staircase.

I staggered forward.

Then Flynn’s

voice drifted up behind me, soft and perfectly loving.

“Baby?”

I froze.

“There you are.”

I had exactly three seconds to become the wife Flynn expected to see.

So I let my knees buckle.

When he reached the top of the stairs, I forced a weak smile.

“There you are,” I whispered. “I was looking for my medicine.”

His expression softened instantly.

Too instantly.

Flynn wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my forehead. “You shouldn’t be walking around alone, sweetheart.”

I leaned against him, pretending the drugs had made me helpless.

Inside, my mind was racing.

If he suspected I had overheard them, I wouldn’t make it to midnight.

Back in the suite, Flynn poured me water and held out two more white pills.

“Take these. You’ll feel better.”

I smiled.

Then pretended to swallow them.

The moment he turned away, I slipped the pills beneath my tongue.

“I’m exhausted,” I murmured.

“Sleep,” Flynn said gently. “I’ll wake you later for some fresh air.”

Fresh air.

The aft deck.

The push.

Minutes after he left, I spat the pills into my hand and searched the room for anything that could save me.

Then I noticed something strange beneath Flynn’s open suitcase.

A second phone.

I grabbed it.

No passcode.

The screen lit up with dozens of messages.

One name appeared again and again.

MARA.

The newest message had arrived twelve minutes earlier.

Is she out yet? I need confirmation before I move the Sterling money.

My blood ran cold.

I scrolled.

Flynn: Midnight. Storm covers everything.

Mara: And the parents?

Flynn: Next week. Same plan.

Mara: Good. Once both deaths clear probate, Aidan gets his cut and we disappear.

Then came a photograph.

Flynn and a dark-haired woman stood on a balcony overlooking Lake Como. He was kissing her temple. On her left hand was the emerald ring he had once told me belonged to his grandmother and had been “lost during an appraisal.”

The date on the photo was eight months before our wedding.

Below it, Mara had written: One more year of pretending, then we never have to hide again.

I stared until the screen blurred.

So there it was.

Not a careless affair.

A partnership.

Flynn had built our entire marriage around my death.

I kept scrolling, forcing myself past the nausea.

There were photographs of financial documents, scans of my signature, routing numbers, and a message from someone saved only as DANE.

Brake line access confirmed. Sterling SUV will be serviced Tuesday before mountain trip.

My parents.

I needed to warn them immediately.

My own phone showed no service. Flynn had told me reception was unreliable offshore, but the yacht had satellite communications. I knew because my father had bragged about the redundant safety systems when he bought the vessel.

And then I remembered something else.

Captain Mercer.

My father had hired Elias Mercer twelve years earlier, long before Flynn entered our lives. Mercer had captained family charters, hurricane evacuations, and one emergency medical crossing when my mother developed appendicitis in the Bahamas.

Flynn had spent the entire honeymoon complaining that Mercer was “old-fashioned” and insisting I let him handle the crew.

At the time, I thought he was being territorial.

Now I understood.

He had been isolating me from the one person aboard whose loyalty predated him.

I photographed every message with my phone even though it had no signal, then tucked Flynn’s second phone inside the lining of my robe.

My legs were still weak, but the extra pills I had refused were already making a difference.

I slipped into the corridor and headed toward the service passage leading to the bridge.

I had almost reached it when a voice behind me said, “Ma’am?”

I spun around.

A young deckhand named Owen stood there holding folded towels.

For one terrible second, neither of us moved.

Then his eyes dropped to my bare feet, my shaking hands, and the bruise forming where I had gripped the railing.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I wanted to trust him.

I couldn’t.

“I need Captain Mercer.”

His expression changed.

Not surprise.

Fear.

“Mr. Flynn told us you weren’t to be disturbed.”

My heart sank.

Then Owen lowered his voice.

“He also told the captain you were too sick to speak to anyone. Captain Mercer didn’t believe him.”

Hope flashed through me.

“Take me to him.”

We moved quickly through the service corridor. At the bridge door, Owen knocked twice, paused, then once.

Mercer opened it himself.

He took one look at me and said, “What did he do?”

I showed him the pills.

Then the phone.

Mercer read three messages and went pale.

“We call your father now,” he said.

He reached for the satellite console.

Before his hand touched it, every light on the bridge flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then the communications panel went black.

An alarm chirped from the navigation station.

Mercer swore under his breath.

Owen looked toward the aft monitors.

“Captain…”

On the security feed, Flynn stood beside the communications cabinet one deck below.

He looked straight into the camera.

And smiled.

Then the screen went dark.

Click the blue “PART 3” below to read the next part: 👉 PART 3 👈