Chapter 10
The wind on deck was colder than it had been in the cabin. I kept both hands on the rail and let my knees stay soft, like I couldn't quite hold myself upright. The yacht cut through water that looked black and flat between swells, and the engine was low enough that I could hear voices if I didn't breathe too loud.
Adrian stood behind me with one hand hovering at the small of my back, not touching, just there. He'd guided me out saying I needed air, his palm light, his voice caring for anyone who might be listening.
"Easy," he'd said. "Just breathe out here with me."
The other man was near the stern, by the coiled line and the aft cleat. I didn't look straight at him. I kept my eyes on the water and listened through the wind.
Adrian leaned in and spoke low, his mouth close to the other man's shoulder. I caught fragments first, then whole sentences when the wind dropped.
"We do it on the port side," the accomplice said. His voice was flat, practiced. "You call me forward. I steady her, she gets dizzy, goes over. Seasickness. No life vest in the dark, she hits, we circle, we report it as a fall. Current does the rest. We stick to seasickness the whole time."
He said it like a checklist. Not nervous. Like he'd already decided how it would sound on the radio tomorrow.
Adrian nodded. His hand finally settled on my back, warm through the robe. I made my breathing shallow and uneven.
"Timing matters," Adrian said. "Villanueva Pacific Logistics transfers on death certificate. Sixteen billion pesos doesn't wait. If we miss the window, the board locks it for probate and her attorney stalls for months. It has to read accidental tonight. Before port. Before anyone can file an injunction."
Sixteen billion. He said it without lowering his voice, and the accomplice didn't react. That was the point, I realized. He'd said the number out loud before, enough times that it wasn't shocking anymore. It was just a reason.
My throat went dry. The small hard edge of the recorder pressed against my skin where I'd tucked it, and I thought about whether the wind was too loud for it to catch. I shifted my weight and let my forehead dip toward the rail.
"She took them?" the accomplice asked.
"She held them," Adrian said. "She's groggy. She will be. Same as we said — two tablets, she gets weak, disoriented. Nobody questions a seasick wife leaning too far."
He squeezed my shoulder gently, for show. "Mahal, you okay? Lean on me."
I didn't answer right away. I let a second pass, then another, and forced a cough that scraped my throat raw. It came out louder than I meant it to, a hard, doubled cough that bent me forward over the rail. My hands slipped an inch and I grabbed again.
Both men went quiet.
The accomplice stepped back half a step. Adrian's hand tightened on my arm.
"She's coughing," the accomplice said. "Hold on."
Adrian turned his attention to me completely. He rubbed my back in slow circles. "Hey. Hey, breathe. You swallowed water?"
I shook my head and coughed again, softer this time, and didn't lift my face. I wanted them paused. I wanted that checklist to stop before he walked me through the exact hand placement.
From the wheelhouse, a faint electronic chime carried on the wind. Then the captain's voice, low over the speaker: "One five eight."
1:58.
Two minutes to the hour he'd promised someone else. Today at 2:00, we'll push him into the sea. I had heard him say it to a phone in the cabin. He'd said it again tonight in different words, and now he'd said it with a witness.
Adrian's hand left my back. He stepped closer to the accomplice and dropped his voice even lower, annoyed at the interruption.
"We're fine," he whispered, but I could still hear him. "We wait till two on the dot. You come mid-rail, I have her. One motion. Don't overthink it. She goes over, we shout man overboard late, we make noise after. Seasickness, disorientation, she leaned. That's the line."
The accomplice gave a short nod. "And the suitcase?"
"Goes after," Adrian said. "In the morning I say she packed it wrong, it fell. Nobody opens it."
I kept staring at the water. My legs trembled for real now, not acted. The yacht rose on a swell and the rail pressed into my palms. I coughed once more, just enough to remind them I was still there, still listening, and the wind took the sound and threw it aft.
The recorder was still pressed tight under the fabric. I didn't move to check it. I didn't need to. I'd felt the faint heat of it the whole time, and I'd stayed within three feet while Adrian said inheritance, urgency, seasickness, two tablets, one motion. The method and the motive in the same minute, before 2 a.m.
Adrian came back to me and put both hands on my shoulders, turning me a few inches away from the water, like he was steadying me.
"Better?" he asked, his voice soft again, caring again.
May you like
I nodded slowly and let my eyes stay half closed.
Behind me, the water kept moving past the hull, dark and fast, and the deck clock held at 1:58.
