Chapter 1 - The Message on His Phone
Gregory reached for his phone as though touching it would somehow restore the confidence I had just taken from him.
I kept the aluminum bat lowered beside my leg.
I had no intention of using it.
I only wanted it out of his hands.
He picked up the phone and gave me a smile that looked nothing like the charming expression I had fallen for during our first year together.
This smile was thin.
Cornered.
Mean.
“My father warned me you might be difficult,” he said.
Then the screen lit up.
A message notification appeared across the top.
Walter Hartman.
I caught only part of it.
DO NOT LET HER CONTACT SECURITY UNTIL SHE SIGNS.
Everything inside me went still.
Gregory saw my eyes move toward the screen.
His thumb immediately covered the message.
Too late.
“What am I signing?” I asked.
His face tightened.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Then why is your father telling you to keep me away from security?”
Gregory took one step backward.
I noticed something new.
He was no longer trying to intimidate me physically.
Now he was calculating.
That worried me more.
A violent man with a weapon could be dangerous.
A frightened man with a plan could be worse.
“Give me the bat,” he said.
“No.”
“Ashlynn.”
“No.”
His jaw flexed.
“You’re overreacting.”
I almost laughed.
“You locked me inside a cruise cabin and swung a baseball bat at me.”
“I was proving a point.”
“You proved one.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What point?”
“That I married a man I never actually knew.”
For half a second, something moved across his face.
Not guilt.
Not shame.
Fear.
And that told me the message mattered.
I held out my left hand.
“Give me the phone.”
He stared at me.
“You’re insane.”
“Then unlock the door.”
He did not move.
“Unlock it, Gregory.”
He looked at the cabin door.
Then back at me.
And suddenly I understood.
He had locked the deadbolt.
But the phone in his hand was more important to him than stopping me from leaving.
There was evidence on it.
I lowered the bat another inch.
“Whatever your father planned, it’s over.”
Gregory laughed softly.
“You really think this started today?”
That sentence made the hairs along my arms rise.
He moved toward the nightstand instead of toward me.
For a second, I thought he was setting down the phone.
Then I saw his other hand reach behind the lamp.
He pulled out a thick navy folder.
My name was printed across the front.
ASHLYNN MERCER HARTMAN.
Below it were three words.
POST-MARITAL ASSET AGREEMENT.
I stared at the folder.
Gregory’s smile slowly returned.
“There are some details we need to straighten out.”
“You planned to make me sign documents after threatening me?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You brought a weapon.”
“You took it from me.”
“That does not erase what happened.”
He tossed the folder onto the bed.
It opened.
Several pages slid across the white comforter.
I saw corporate names.
Trust accounts.
Property schedules.
Transfer clauses.
Then I saw the name of my consulting company.
Mercer Strategic Group.
My company.
The business I had built after leaving the Marines.
The business Gregory had never once contributed to.
I stepped closer.
One paragraph had already been highlighted.
Upon execution, the undersigned assigns controlling authority over all marital and individually held business assets to Hartman Holdings Management LLC.
My stomach hardened.
Hartman Holdings belonged to Gregory’s father.
“This isn’t a marriage agreement,” I said.
Gregory shrugged.
“It simplifies things.”
“It gives your father control of my company.”
“Temporary administrative control.”
“It gives him voting rights.”
“You’re not a lawyer.”
“No.”
I looked up.
“But I know how to read.”
His face changed again.
I picked up another page.
There was a transfer authorization for one of my investment accounts.
Another document named Gregory as my authorized representative for certain corporate decisions.
A third page contained what appeared to be my electronic signature.
Except I had never signed it.
I looked at him slowly.
“Where did you get this?”
He said nothing.
I held up the page.
“This signature is fake.”
“You signed dozens of wedding documents.”
“Not this one.”
“You probably forgot.”
“No.”
My voice became colder.
“I don’t forget documents involving seven-figure assets.”
The cabin fell silent.
Gregory’s eyes flicked toward the balcony.
Then the phone buzzed again.
This time he glanced down automatically.
Walter had sent another message.
IS SHE COOPERATING?
Underneath it was a second message.
PORT CONTACT IS READY IF SHE CAUSES TROUBLE.
My pulse slowed.
Marine training had taught me something most people misunderstand about fear.
Fear does not always make you panic.
Sometimes fear makes everything painfully clear.
I looked at the locked door.
The fake documents.
The phone.
The bat.
And the endless ocean outside.
Gregory had not chosen a cruise because it was romantic.
His family had chosen a place where they believed I would have nowhere to go.
I placed the bat gently on the floor behind me.
Gregory’s eyes brightened.
He thought I was surrendering.
Then I reached into the pocket of the blazer I had worn aboard.
And removed my own phone.
His face immediately changed.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling ship security.”
May you like
Gregory lunged for me.
This time, I was ready.
