Chapter 3 - The Saturday Yacht Cruise
The Saturday sun beat down mercilessly on the sparkling blue waters of Casco Bay as the magnificent seventy-foot Hawthorne luxury yacht, The Corporate Crown, idled gracefully away from the private dock. The sea breeze whipped my hair across my face, carrying the sharp, salty tang of the ocean mixed with the suffocating scent of expensive French perfume worn by my mother-in-law, Eleanor.
Victoria was lounging on the aft deck, snapping selfies with her new designer sunglasses, while Richard stood beside her, sipping a glass of iced mineral water with a relaxed, predatory grin plastered across his face.
“Cheer up, darling,” Richard purred, stepping close to me and wrapping a heavy, possessive arm around my shoulders. His touch made my skin crawl with revulsion, knowing what was currently sitting inside the silver flask hidden in his suit jacket. “By sunset, that pesky Maine estate will be legally ours, and we can all finally put this silly family friction behind us. Won't that be nice?”
“Oh, absolutely, Richard,” I replied, my voice sounding breathy and convincingly fragile, playing my assigned role to absolute perfection. “I just... I feel a little dizzy from the sun. Could you pour me a glass of that special vintage red wine you brought down from the private cellar? It might help settle my stomach.”
Richard’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, triumphant greed. He practically tripped over himself rushing toward the cabin bar. “Wine? Of course, my love. Let me pour you a very special glass. Something unforgettable.”
I watched him through the reflection of the polished brass railing as he covertly uncapped the tetrodotoxin vial, carefully measuring three drops of the clear, deadly liquid into a crystal goblet before topping it off with deep red Merlot. He walked back toward me with measured grace, holding out the chalice like an offering to the gods of destruction.
“Drink up, darling,” Richard whispered, his voice dripping with venomous sweetness as he pressed the glass into my hand, trapping me against the high teakwood railing of the yacht's upper deck. “Just sign the house over to my sister before your heart stops. She’s the true royalty of this family; you're nothing more than an uncultured, useless piece of trash.”
Nearby, Eleanor smirked wickedly, raising her own glass of champagne in a silent toast, eagerly waiting for the poisoned wine to finally shut down my organs and rid their high-society circle of my embarrassing existence.
“Drink it, you ungrateful little parasite,” Eleanor sneered, taking a sip of her champagne. “We’ve waited ten years to be rid of you.”
I looked at Richard. I looked at Eleanor. I looked down at the poisoned wine glass swirling gently in my hand.
I didn't drink a single drop.
Instead, I smiled calmly, lifted my left wrist with deliberate slowness, and checked my diamond-encrusted Rolex.
It was exactly 1:15 PM.
Right on cue, exactly as synchronized down to the microsecond by my brother’s operatives across the bay, a piercing, ungodly shriek cut through the ocean breeze like a foghorn.
May you like
We all whipped our heads toward the stern deck.
Victoria had dropped her crystal champagne glass, which shattered into a thousand glittering shards across the teak flooring. She clutched her throat with both hands, her eyes bulging wide with absolute, blind terror, before collapsing hard onto her knees and violently throwing up dark, bloody bile all over her pristine white designer resort wear.
