Chapter 3

"What is this?"

I held up the satellite phone, my voice so calm it even scared me.

Victoria stood frozen, her body trembling slightly.

But within two seconds, the panic on her face disappeared — replaced by a chilling composure I had never seen from her before.

"Since you've already seen it, I won't bother pretending."

She casually tossed the priceless bottle of wine onto the carpet. The red liquid spread across the fibers like blood.

"Eleanor Vance, you're a sharp businessman. But you're too sentimental — and that is your fatal flaw."

She walked to the sofa and sat down, elegantly lighting a slim cigarette.

"Who put you up to this?" I gritted my teeth and stepped toward her.

"You don't need to know that. All you need to know is that by the end of tonight, everything in Vance Group will change hands."

She blew a slow smoke ring, her eyes full of mockery.

"You think you can kill me on this ship?" I laughed coldly.

Over the course of ninety-nine loops, I had honed my skills to the level of a trained assassin.

Taking down one woman? Three seconds, tops.

"Kill you? No, no, no — why would I want to get my own hands dirty?"

Victoria laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. "You're going to 'accidentally' die in a shipwreck, right in front of the entire ship — the tragic CEO who never saw it coming."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Ding-dong.

"Eleanor, it's the Captain. Your dinner reservation is ready."

The voice from outside the door was deep and steady — the voice of this cruise ship's captain.

In previous loops, I had begged him for help countless times. He always brushed me off with the same dismissive, by-the-book indifference.

I walked over and yanked the door open.

The Captain stood outside in a crisp white uniform, wearing his professional smile.

Behind him, two waiters pushed a service cart.

"Eleanor, this is the French baked lobster you specially requested—"

"Shut up."

I cut him off cold, my eyes fixed on his face like a blade.

"Captain, I remember very clearly — at the welcome dinner on the first night of this voyage, you told me personally that you have a severe shellfish allergy. You said even the smell gives you hives."

I pointed at the enormous red lobster on the cart and said, word by word:

"So tell me — why are you the one personally delivering this to my cabin?"

The smile on the Captain's face froze. Fine beads of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead.

"I… I…" He stumbled over his words, his eyes darting uncontrollably toward Victoria on the sofa.

"Because he's not the real Captain!"

I slammed my foot into the service cart and sent it crashing to the floor. Scalding broth splattered all over both waiters.

"You're all in on this together!"

It finally made sense.

Why no matter how many warnings I gave, the crew never reacted.

Why the ship had drifted so far off course without a single person finding it strange.

Because everyone on this ship — from the captain down to the waiters — was a player in this murder plot.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Victoria sat on the sofa and applauded slowly.

"Brilliant. Truly brilliant, Eleanor. You're even sharper than I gave you credit for."

She stood up and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray.

"But even now that you've figured it all out — what does it change? Do you really think you can escape?"

Her words had barely left her lips when the two waiters — still grimacing from the scalding broth — suddenly reached inside their jackets and pulled out silenced pistols. The barrels pointed straight at my head.