Chapter 2

"Turn the yacht around. Now."

I held Grant's reply to the fuel leak warning in front of him. The safety officer had recommended an immediate evacuation and return to port. Grant had received the message before I did.

The gala continues. Do not let Elena see this.

He darkened my phone screen.

"The crew isolated the line," he said.

"Don't turn one email into a disaster."

Four hundred guests sat beneath the ballroom chandeliers, unaware of the leak below deck. Servers moved among them with champagne. Between the perfume and grilled lobster, I could smell fuel.

"Tell the captain to turn back."

Grant pulled me into the corridor beside the stage. My dress scraped the cuts where he had torn away my founder's badge. Blood seeped through the neckline.

"Ten minutes," he said.

"Then we'll return."

"Ten minutes could get people killed."

He straightened the cuff link engraved with our wedding date.

"You've already ruined half of tonight, Elena."

A crewman pushed through the fire door, grease on his sleeve and sweat running down his face. He barely waited for it to close before speaking.

"The temporary repair isn't holding. The captain says we need to turn back now."

Grant glanced at the donation screen. Only twenty-seven thousand dollars remained before the three-million-dollar match.

"Keep working on it," he told the crewman.

"Don't tell the guests."

The crewman's jaw tightened. He looked at me, as if he expected me to make the decision Grant would not. Then he retreated through the fire door.

Vivian appeared in the corridor. My badge gleamed on the silver-gray gown she had worn to dinner.

"What's wrong?"

My phone lit up. Her eyes caught the subject line: URGENT FUEL LEAK WARNING.

"Of course we should turn back if there's danger," she said.

"But won't an evacuation cause a panic? Think what the press will say about Mercer Shipping."

Her fingertips settled on my badge. Minutes earlier, Grant had pulled it from my dress and pinned it to hers. Now she was using it to make a safety warning sound like another argument between us.

Inside the ballroom, the host announced her eight-year-old daughter. Lily waited beside the stage in a white dress, clutching a drawing of three people beside a blue lighthouse. Her small life jacket lay by her feet.

"I can keep her offstage," Vivian whispered, "if Elena doesn't want her here."

The host had already introduced Vivian's late husband. His photograph filled the screen. Vivian adjusted Lily's headband and led her to the microphone. Grant followed, leaving me alone with the warning still glowing on my phone.

I caught his wrist.

"You've had two warnings."

He pulled away.

"Her speech is two minutes."

Lily raised her drawing.

"Uncle Grant says he'll protect Mom and me. He says we won't lose our home."

Vivian wiped her eyes. Grant placed a hand on Lily's shoulder, and the guests applauded. On the screen behind them, the three little figures in Lily's drawing looked like a family. I wasn't one of them.

The yacht shuddered. Knives struck plates; the chandelier swayed. The lights blinked out, then returned. The host blamed a wave, and the band played louder.

The crewman reappeared at the fire door, black grease streaked across his palm. He shook his head at Grant and pointed toward the lower deck. He did not dare approach the guests.

Grant saw him. Then he watched the total rise.

$2,982,000.

Vivian held Lily close. Over her daughter's shoulder, her eyes stayed on the screen.

$3,000,000.

Grant lifted his champagne glass.

The explosion came from below us.

The floor buckled. Glass flew across the ballroom, and a metal railing tore open my lower leg as I hit the wall. Lily's drawing fell near the stage; flames ate through the blue lighthouse.

Smoke poured into the room. Guests shoved toward the exits, slipping on broken glass. I yelled for them to use the right passage, pressed a tablecloth to a woman's bleeding arm, and helped an older man stand. Cold sprinkler water soaked my dress. By the time I led the last guests onto the open deck, the first lifeboats were gone.

"Grant!"

He stood beside the final boat on the starboard side. Vivian sat inside with Lily in her arms. Her hair was wet and her face streaked with soot. On her white life jacket, two dark blue letters faced me.

E.M.

My initials. My life jacket.

Blood filled my shoe as I dragged my injured leg toward them. I had helped strangers reach the deck, believing my husband would at least leave a place for me.

"Why are you wearing mine?"

Vivian glanced down.

"A crew member gave it to me. I didn't know."

She tightened her hold on Lily. Her arm covered the open flap of the jacket's locator compartment.

A crew member checked the load indicator.

"One more person!"

I raised my hand.

Grant stepped into the boat.

Under his weight, the indicator changed from green to red.

"She's injured!" the crew member shouted.

"Let her take the seat!"

Grant gripped the railing. He stayed inside.

Vivian wrapped my life jacket around her daughter. Lily was trembling, but Vivian watched Grant.

At last he looked at me.

"You can swim," he said.

"Lily needs her mother."

The lowering mechanism started. As the boat slid away, I lunged and caught its edge.

Grant looked down at my hands.

He didn't pull me up. He peeled my fingers loose one by one.

A second explosion ripped through the stern. Fire swallowed the deck and threw me toward the water.

Through the flames, our eyes met. He could see I was alive.

He let me fall.