Chapter 3

"There you are," Miles said without looking up. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen overboard. The Weatherbys will be at our table tonight, along with the Ashfords. Their daughter Rebecca just returned from finishing school in Switzerland."

Jake nodded absently, still hearing echoes of Amity's music in his head. "I'm sure she's lovely."

Emma caught her son's eye in the mirror. "You seem distracted, dear. Did you enjoy exploring the ship?"

"It's... impressive," Jake replied, loosening his tie. "The entertainment venues are quite sophisticated."

"Speaking of entertainment," Miles interjected, "I heard there's some sort of musical performance tonight. Hopefully it won't drag on too long. These cruise ship acts are usually mediocre at best."

Jake bit back his instinctive defense of Amity's talent. Instead, he excused himself to shower and change, his mind racing with questions he couldn't voice. Why had she invited him to really listen? What did she see when she looked at him?

Meanwhile, three decks below in the crew quarters, Amity was having her own complicated evening preparations. Her small but well-appointed cabin reflected her dual nature—expensive violin cases alongside deliberately modest clothing, sheet music scattered across a desk that also held a burner phone she used to avoid her family's calls.

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in, Carl."

But it wasn't the sound technician. A tall, impeccably dressed young man with familiar green eyes stepped inside, though his were harder, more calculating than Jake's.

"Hello, sister."

Amity's shoulders tensed. "Liam. I should have known you'd track me down eventually."

"Father's worried about you playing dress-up as a common musician," her brother said, settling into the room's single chair without invitation. "This charade has gone on long enough."

"It's not a charade. It's my life."

"Your life is waiting for you in Sydney. The board meeting is next month, and Father expects both his children present."

Amity turned away, focusing on organizing her sheet music. "I'm booked through the Mediterranean tour. Tell Father he'll have to wait."

"He won't wait forever, Amity. Neither will I." Liam stated flatly.

“Your his heir Liam not me I’m just the share so I left, after how things went with your best friend,” Amity said looking away still hurt, at how things went down.

Liam's expression softened slightly at the mention of his former best friend. "Marcus was an idiot. What he did to you was unforgivable."

"And yet you still invited him to your engagement party," Amity replied, her voice carefully controlled. "Right after he spread those rumors about me only getting into conservatory because of Father's donations."

"I didn't know—"

"You didn't want to know." Amity finally turned to face her brother. "There's a difference, Liam. Just like you don't want to know that I'm happier performing under my own merit than I ever was sitting in boardrooms."

Liam stood, straightening his jacket. "Father won't accept Jenkins as a stage name much longer. People are starting to make connections."

"Let them." Amity lifted her chin defiantly. "I earned my reputation with this." She gestured toward her violin case. "Not with his money."

"And what about the Monroe boy I saw you talking to earlier? Does he know who you really are?"

Amity felt heat rise in her cheeks. "That's none of your business."

"Everything you do reflects on our family, whether you like it or not." Liam moved toward the door, then paused. "Be careful, Amity. The passenger-crew divide exists for good reasons. Don't let some infatuation ruin everything you've built."

After he left, Amity sank onto her narrow bed, her hands trembling slightly. She'd worked so hard to create this separate life, this identity where her talent mattered more than her trust fund. But Liam's presence reminded her how fragile that independence really was.

A soft chime indicated the ship's formal dinner service was beginning. Amity stood and smoothed her performance dress—elegant but understated, designed to let her music take center stage. Tonight, she would play for an audience that included both the Monroe family and her own brother, each representing different aspects of the world she was trying to navigate.

As she made her way toward the Grand Ballroom, Amity wondered if Jake Monroe would truly listen, as he'd promised. Or if, like so many others, he would only hear what he expected from someone he thought was beneath his social standing.

The irony wasn't lost on her—they were both hiding from their families' expectations, both struggling to define themselves beyond inherited wealth and obligation. The difference was, he didn't know they were fighting the same battle.

The Grand Ballroom was a testament to maritime luxury—crystal chandeliers swayed gently with the ship's movement, casting prismatic light across tables draped in ivory silk. Jake entered with his parents, immediately scanning the room for Amity while pretending to survey the social landscape his father expected him to navigate.

"Ah, there's Jonathan Ashford," Miles said, steering his family toward a prominent table. "Jake, I want you to meet his daughter Rebecca properly. She's quite accomplished—speaks four languages and has an art history degree from the Sorbonne."

Jake nodded dutifully as introductions were made, but his attention kept drifting to the small stage where a transparent violin gleamed under the spotlights. Rebecca Ashford was undeniably beautiful and clearly intelligent, but her conversation felt rehearsed, as if she too was performing a role written by ambitious parents.

"I understand you're taking over more responsibilities in the family business," Rebecca said, her smile perfectly calibrated. "It must be exciting to be part of such a legacy."

"Exciting isn't the word I'd use," Jake replied honestly, earning a sharp look from his father.

Before the conversation could continue, the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the room. The ship's entertainment director took the stage, his voice carrying the practiced enthusiasm of someone who'd given this introduction dozens of times.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're honored to present one of the world's most innovative young violinists. Please welcome Amity Jenkins and her extraordinary Crystal Voice."

Polite applause rippled through the ballroom as Amity walked onto the stage. Jake felt his breath catch—she'd transformed completely from the casually dressed woman he'd met earlier. Her midnight blue gown was simple but elegant, and her hair was swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. But it was her presence that truly commanded attention, a quiet confidence that seemed to expand to fill the entire space.

She lifted her violin, and the room fell silent.