Chapter 2 - THE SAFE BEHIND THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN
For three seconds, I forgot about Cassandra.
The champagne.
The torn dress.
The phones pointed toward me.
None of it mattered.
"My credentials?" I repeated.
Adrien nodded.
"Your private authorization code."
"That's not possible."
"I know."
The safe was located behind a concealed panel in my father's former office aboard the Étoile.
Only three people knew it existed.
My father.
Adrien.
And me.
After my father's death, I had changed the access code myself.
I hadn't written it down.
I hadn't shared it.
And I certainly hadn't given it to anyone connected to Cassandra Vale.
I looked toward the guests.
Cassandra was whispering urgently to a man in a navy tuxedo.
Her brother.
Julian Vale.
Thirty-six years old.
Chief financial officer of Vale International.
And one of the few people who knew I would be attending the party that evening.
Julian caught me watching him.
His expression changed.
Then he smiled.
It was a practiced smile.
The kind men used when they were calculating how much a woman knew.
"Captain," I said, "please have security preserve every recording from tonight."
Adrien nodded.
"Already ordered."
"And nobody leaves until we understand what happened."
He hesitated.
"Miss Marlowe, we cannot detain guests without lawful grounds."
"Then ask them to remain voluntarily. Contact the harbor authorities about the possible theft. Anyone who wants to leave can do so after their identity and departure are properly documented."
"Understood."
Cassandra recovered enough to raise her voice.
"You cannot be serious!"
I turned toward her.
"About which part?"
"You're pretending to own this yacht!"
Adrien answered before I could.
"Miss Marlowe is the registered beneficial owner through her family's holding company."
Cassandra stared at him.
"Then why was she dressed like that?"
I looked down at my ruined silk dress.
"Like what?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I stepped closer.
"You assumed I didn't belong here because I wasn't wearing enough diamonds?"
Her face flushed.
"I didn't say that."
"You said I shouldn't be allowed near luxury."
Someone behind her lowered a phone.
I continued.
"You poured champagne over me, tore my clothing, and tried to have me removed. All because I walked through your photograph."
Cassandra glanced toward her livestream.
For the first time, she seemed to remember the audience.
She ended the broadcast.
Too late.
The recording had already spread.
Adrien escorted me to my father's office.
I had not entered it since his funeral.
The room still smelled faintly of cedarwood and leather.
His brass compass rested on the desk.
A framed photograph showed us standing together on the yacht's bow when I was sixteen.
I had braces.
He had windblown hair.
Both of us were laughing.
For a moment, grief struck so sharply that I had to grip the desk.
Adrien waited.
Then he pointed toward the concealed safe.
"The alarm activated at 10:43 p.m."
"What was taken?"
"We haven't opened it."
I entered my emergency authorization.
The steel door released.
Inside were three compartments.
The first contained my father's handwritten journals.
The second held a sealed envelope addressed to me.
The third was empty.
I stared.
The missing item was a small black data drive.
May you like
My father had called it the Lighthouse Archive.
And before he died, he had made me promise never to let it fall into the wrong hands.
