Chapter 4

It was true.

Vivian was the murderer. And they were in this together.

In that instant, all fear vanished.

Only one thought remained:

Even if I died tonight, I would plunge this blade into both their throats and avenge my parents!

Just as I prepared to launch myself out of bed and strike while their backs were turned, Julian sighed quietly:

"Enough, Vivian."

"Chloe has suffered enough. She bought my story and won't come after you anymore. Just treat her like a harmless, docile pet from now on."

Vivian scoffed, her voice laced with venom. "What’s that supposed to mean? Don't tell me you actually have feelings for her?"

"Vivian, if I had feelings for her, would I drug my own wife just so I could watch the sunrise with you?"

"I don't care! You promised me that whenever we're on this ship, your eyes and your heart belong to me alone."

Julian’s voice softened into that familiar, indulgent tone. "Stop throwing a tantrum. It's your birthday, so I indulged you tonight. But we can't push our luck."

"The Reynolds family fortune is still registered under Chloe's name. I only have power of attorney."

"Be patient. Until I finish transferring all the assets into your offshore accounts, we cannot afford to blow our cover..."

Their voices grew faint as their footsteps faded down the hallway.

Trembling, I dragged myself to the window. Outside, the sun was still hidden, but the pale moonlight cast long, intertwined shadows of their figures on the deck.

Julian hadn't planned to kill me tonight.

He drugged me simply because this ship belonged to him and Vivian.

And on their private sunrise deck, there was no room for me.

Fine.

As long as I was alive, I had a chance.

Over the next two weeks, despite Julian swearing he wouldn't drug me again, Vivian’s whining swayed him every single time.

Every night, I waited for him to look away, took a sip of the laced water, snuck to the bathroom to throw it up, and deliberately "overslept" through every dawn.

Each morning, Julian would playfully tap my forehead. "Looks like you were built for the sea after all. You sleep deeper on this ship than you do at home. I couldn't even wake you up."

I smiled right back. "Whenever I'm with you, I feel completely safe."

That used to be true.

Those rare months he spent at home were the happiest times of my life.

Even now, wrapped in his counterfeit warmth, I found myself slipping into nostalgic illusions.

Even though I knew every smile was a calculated performance.

I still couldn't wrap my head around it.

How could Julian fall for the woman who destroyed my life?

Did he catch feelings while investigating her?

A few days later, while watching the sunrise on the deck, Vivian developed a light cough.

When Julian returned to our suite, his face was clouded with panic. "Chloe, we need to swap cabins. Vivian caught a nasty chill. She needs a warm stateroom with direct sunlight."

I froze.

He wasn't even pretending anymore.

"You want me to give up my master suite to my family’s rival?" I asked, keeping my voice flat. "My immune system is fragile too, Julian. Don't I deserve sunlight?"

Julian wrapped his arms around me, coaxing me softly. "Chloe, I told you, your parents’ crash was an accident. It had nothing to do with her."

"She's genuinely sick. All the other oceanview suites are fully booked by VIP guests. Yours is the only one available."

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. "I am a paying passenger on this ship!"

"You're my wife," he countered, his tone turning cold. "You're family."

His brow furrowed with mild disgust. "Because of your baseless accusations back home, Vivian’s reputation was dragged through the mud. She was forced to hide out at sea just to escape the slander."

"You wronged her, Chloe. This is your chance to make amends."

"Be a good girl and move to an interior room. I'll make it up to you once we get home."

Words died in my throat. I simply gave a hollow nod.

After I moved into the windowless interior cabin, Julian’s patience with me evaporated. His displays of affection with Vivian became utterly brazen.

Julian was brilliant—he had to be to run my family’s empire.

He had to know his actions would raise red flags. He had to know telling me to "make amends to Vivian" would infuriate me.

Yet he didn't care anymore.

His obsessive devotion to Vivian had stripped him of every shred of logic and caution.

Two months slipped by. In just a few days, the cruise liner would finally make port in a foreign harbor.

My original plan was to play along until we docked, establish safety on land, and then strip him of everything he stole.

Until my private investigator sent me a file.

It contained the complete, unvarnished history between Julian Vance and Vivian Sterling.

Reading through the dossier, I dug my nails into my palms until blood dripped onto the floor.

Every drop of sorrow and disgust in my veins morphed into pure, unadulterated murderous intent.