Chapter 3 - The Mid-Ocean Interrogation
The luxury suite was dead silent save for the low, rhythmic hum of the air conditioning unit and the muffled sound of ocean waves crashing against the hull of the Royal Horizon.
Gregory remained slumped against the mahogany desk, holding an ice pack—which I had retrieved from the mini-fridge and tossed carelessly into his lap—against his swelling jaw. Every time he tried to shift his weight, he winced, his eyes darting frantically toward the door as if expecting an army to storm in.
He didn't have to wait long.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The heavy thuds against the cabin door startled Gregory so violently he nearly knocked over his glass of water.
I walked over, unlatched the safety chain, and swung the door open.
Standing in the hallway were two men in crisp white maritime security uniforms, flanked by the ship’s chief of security—a broad-shouldered former British Royal Marine named Commander Thomas Vance—and, to my slight surprise, a local federal marshal who must have boarded via a coastal transport vessel coordinated by my attorney within minutes of receiving my digital file.
“Mrs. Hartman?” Commander Thomas asked, his eyes immediately assessing the room, scanning past me to spot the aluminum bat resting against the sofa and Gregory cowering on the floor.
“Commander,” I nodded, stepping aside to let them enter. “Thank you for responding so quickly.”
“We received the emergency data packet from your legal counsel, along with the corporate extortion and domestic assault flags routed through federal maritime channels,” Thomas said, stepping into the suite with heavy, deliberate boots. He gestured to the two security officers, who immediately moved to secure Gregory.
“Wait! You can’t do this!” Gregory shrieked, scrambling backward as the guards hauled him to his feet with professional efficiency. “This is a misunderstanding! My wife is hysterical! She attacked me!”
“Your wife is a former Marine Corps martial arts instructor, Mr. Hartman,” Commander Thomas said, his voice dripping with dry, contemptuous British humor as he picked up the aluminum bat from the floor and inspected the dents. “And judging by the forensic evidence on your jaw and the text messages currently being reviewed by federal prosecutors in Miami, you brought a very poorly chosen weapon to a very mismatched fight.”
The federal marshal stepped forward, flashing a metallic badge before snapping a pair of heavy steel handcuffs around Gregory’s wrists with a sharp click.
“Gregory Hartman, you are being detained under federal maritime jurisdiction for domestic assault, terroristic threats, and interstate transmission of extortion-related communications,” the marshal announced coldly. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
As they dragged Gregory toward the door, his face twisted in a mask of absolute terror and impotent rage. He looked at me, his eyes wide and pleading.
“Ashlynn! Please! Tell them it was a joke! Tell them we’re married! We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon!”
I walked slowly to the doorway, leaning against the frame with my arms crossed over my chest. I looked down at the man who had thought he could break my spirit before the sun set on our first day of marriage.
“Have a safe trip back to Florida, Gregory,” I said softly. “Tell your father I said hello.”
The door clicked shut, sealing him away in the custody of men who didn't care about his family name, his corporate title, or his father’s archaic advice.
The suite suddenly felt enormous.
I let out a long, slow breath, releasing the residual adrenaline that had been humming through my nervous system since the moment the cabin door first locked behind us. My hands didn't shake. They never shook after a fight was won.
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Walking over to the mini-fridge, I pulled out the bottle of vintage champagne Gregory had ordered for our arrival. I popped the cork without spilling a single drop, poured a glass, and walked out onto the private balcony.
The ocean air hit my face, cool, salty, and infinitely liberating. Miami was entirely gone now, swallowed by the vast, endless expanse of the open sea.
