CHAPTER 6 — GRAHAM’S FACE
When Captain Rourke named me acting trustee, Graham stopped looking handsome.
That was the strange part.
His features did not change.
Same jaw.
Same tan.
Same white jacket.
But the charm drained out, and underneath was something small and angry wearing expensive clothes.
“Elise,” he said softly, “this is not the place.”
I almost laughed.
Men like him always choose public rooms to humiliate women, then demand privacy when truth walks in.
Vanessa looked at him.
“Graham?”
He did not answer her.
He looked at me.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing. The sale is already structured. People’s investments are tied to this.”
“My father’s ships are not poker chips.”
The guests murmured.
A board member, William Sloane, stepped forward.
“Elise, perhaps we should discuss this in the conference lounge.”
I looked at him.
“Did you see the death filing?”
His mouth closed.
That was answer enough.
Vanessa removed her sunglasses slowly.
“Death filing?”
Poor Vanessa.
For all her ambition, Graham had not told her everything.
He had let her believe she was stepping over an unstable ex-wife, not standing on a forged grave.
I said, “Graham used a false presumption of death to convert temporary authority.”
Vanessa turned to him fully.
“You said she signed away control.”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
“She was gone.”
“I was locked out.”
“You disappeared.”
“You changed the access codes.”
“You were unwell.”
“You told people I was dead.”
That silenced the deck.
Even the jazz trio stopped pretending this was still background music.
A phone rang near the bridge stairs.
Miles answered, listened, then held the phone toward me.
“Registry officer wants permission to secure the corporate server room before docking.”
I looked at Graham.
He was sweating now.
“Granted.”
Crew security moved toward the internal stairwell.
Graham lunged half a step.
Not at me.
Toward the stairs.
Two deck officers blocked him.
That movement did more than any speech could.
The guests saw instinct.
He was not worried about my health.
He was worried about files.
Vanessa whispered, “What’s in the server room?”
May you like
I looked at her.
“Probably your future disappointment.”
