“I don’t have my laptop,” I remind him, My voice still rough from holding my wife, from watching her fall apart in my arms.
“Then find one. We’ve already discussed this. Your little trip can’t slow us down.”
And just like that, the line goes dead.
Fine.
Back in the room, the bed is empty. Just a light glowing under the closet door.
“Ashley?” I call, half afraid of what I’ll hear.
Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way. One stupid ten-second phone call, and now… God, I want to make up for this. But I still can’t tell her anything. And the last thing she’s willing to hear are more empty excuses.
She even curses at me. And Ashley… she never curses.
“Just… go away.”
Every cell in my body wants to stay. Wants to tell Candy to screw himself sideways, and plant myself outside this door until she comes out.
And then what?
If I’d known this would drag out for so long, nearly a fucking year now, I would have gone to Ashley first.
I thought I could protect her from it. And the boys.
But I’d gone to the Commission instead, not knowing that this is what I’d been signing up for.
Walking out of our room, the familiar sensation of guilt I’ve learned to live with hits harder than ever before.
Ashley’s scent still clings to my skin. Her voice still echoes in my ears.
But it’s already slipping away, like waking up from a dream I didn’t want to leave.
And now I’m walking away from her. I’m still trapped.
“...need your eyes on it tonight…”
So, I do the only thing I can.
I’m running hot—skin flushed, blood hammering—but my thoughts are cold, methodical. Like I’ve stepped out of my body and left the rest of me burning.
At this point, we’re looking for co-conspirators. For anywhere I can find connections between false profit reports followed by quick sell-offs. But there has to be a pattern in order to prove malicious intent.
This really could mean we’re close to the end.
I tug at the back of my neck right as the elevator doors slide open.
When I reach the business center, it’s dim and silent.
Perfect.
I claim the farthest computer in the corner, shove the chair back, and jiggle the mouse.
The screen flares to life—bright with the cruise line’s logo.
I enter our cabin number, then the password I set up earlier. The connection blinks... holds… and finally loads a browser.
Sluggish, but functional.
