Chapter 2 - The False Bottom in My LuggageI pinched the tender skin on the inside of my thigh, hard, using the localized pain to fight back against the sedative fog trying to reclaim me. Crawling back into our suite on hands and knees, I dug beneath a pile of designer sweaters I hadn't touched since we boarded and popped open a false bottom built into the base of my luggage — a paranoid precaution my father had insisted on before we ever set sail, one I'd rolled my eyes at while packing.
I wasn't rolling my eyes anymore.
Inside sat a prepaid burner phone with an unregistered SIM card. I activated the voice recorder app with hands that wouldn't stop shaking, slipped the phone deep into my robe pocket, and staggered toward the glass balcony doors. Our suite's terrace sat directly above the main lounge. I dropped flat onto the cold teak floorboards and pressed myself against the base of the railing, the wind whipping salt spray across my face, and the microphone below picked up every word with perfect, damning clarity.
"Champagne's ready for tonight?" Callum's voice, floating up from below.
May you like
"You have to mix the powder into the alcohol to double the sedative's half-life. Handled it hours ago," Roderick said. "You focus on getting her upright and moving. Vivienne and I will be near the lower deck for the disposal. Make sure one of her shoes comes off on the deck, mess up her hair a little. A fall overboard needs to look completely authentic once the investigators start asking questions."
I lay flat against those floorboards, shaking uncontrollably, recording the exact blueprint of my own murder in real time.
Related Stories
