He looked ready to shout.
“Claire.”
“They still need the confirmation.”
“So?”
“I want to know how they plan to get it.”
“That is insane.”
“Probably.”
Mara said:
“She’s right.”
The captain stared at her.
“You’re encouraging this?”
“No.”
“I’m saying if we interrupt now, Thomas claims it was a financial misunderstanding.”
“Adrian claims Claire authorized everything.”
“Margaret says she knew nothing.”
Mara looked at me.
“If they attempt to administer medication or obtain a signature while Claire is impaired, that changes the evidence.”
The captain hated it.
I hated it.
We did it anyway.
But we changed one thing.
The Mercer Star quietly altered speed.
Not course.
The engines reduced just enough to delay our arrival at Greyhaven.
The captain blamed a cooling-system warning.
That gave us time.
And through the emergency engineering channel, a message finally reached Mercer family security.
No tactical helicopter.
No dramatic fleet.
Just one encrypted acknowledgement.
MESSAGE RECEIVED. DO NOT APPROACH GREYHAVEN DOCK. SUPPORT EN ROUTE.
That was enough.
At 8:40 p.m., Adrian came for me.
I had spent the afternoon pretending to deteriorate.
Slurred speech.
Heavy eyelids.
Weak legs.
It was humiliating.
Effective.
“Claire?”
I looked at him slowly.
“Hmm?”
He sat beside me.
“There are some papers I need you to sign.”
Of course.
“What papers?”
“Insurance.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He placed a tablet on my lap.
I stared at it without focusing.
“Can’t tomorrow.”
His grammar slipped.
I almost smiled.
“No.”
Adrian’s face tightened.
“Claire.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
He held my hand.
Then placed my index finger against the biometric pad.
I pulled away weakly.
“What’s that?”
“Just verification.”
Behind him, Margaret entered.
She was carrying tea.
