"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.
Miles Monroe's expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face for perhaps the first time in Jake's memory. The businessman calculating risks had momentarily replaced the controlling father."Jake," Miles said, his voice lower now, "we should discuss this privately.""There's nothing to discuss," Jake replied, feeling a strange new confidence. "I'm not asking for your permission or your blessing. I'm telling you how things are going to be."Captain Morrison, sensing the shift in power dynamics, cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, this deck needs to be cleared for regular operations. I suggest you continue this... negotiation elsewhere."Richard Jenkins-Whitmore straightened his jacket, his face a careful mask once more. "Amity, we'll speak later. When you've had time to consider the implications of your choices." He turned to his security detail. "Have the tender return to the ship. My daughter has decided to complete her contract."As Richard strode away, Liam appeared at
"Why not?" she interrupted, her voice gaining strength. "Because it might damage your precious reputation? The same reputation you've been using to manipulate my career?" She turned to Jake, her eyes blazing with newfound determination. "Marcus wasn't just unfaithful, he was Father's hand-picked choice specifically because he had gambling debts Father could leverage."Jake felt sick, and understanding washed over him. "Your father was using him to control you.""A business arrangement," Richard said coldly, as if discussing a shipping contract. "One that would have benefited everyone involved.""Everyone except me," Amity shot back. She looked at the tender boat, then at Jake, and made her decision. "I'm not getting on that boat."The security guards moved to flank her, but Jake stepped forward, placing himself between them and Amity. "She said no.""This is none of your concern, Monroe," Richard snarled. "You're nothing but a spoiled boy playing at rebellion.""Maybe," Jake acknowled
"I mean that Miles wasn't my parents' choice for me." She smiled faintly at Jake's shocked expression. "Oh yes, there was quite the scandal when I chose the ambitious young shipping executive over the banking heir my family had selected. My father threatened to cut me off completely."Jake stared at his mother, seeing her in an entirely new light. "I never knew.""There are many things you don't know about me, about us." Emma stood, smoothing her impeccable outfit. "Your father wasn't always... like this. Success changed him, hardened him. Made him forget what it was like to fight for something that truly mattered.""Why are you telling me this now?""Because I saw how you looked at that young woman when she played." Emma's eyes were kind but resolute. "I recognized it—the same way Miles once looked at me, before spreadsheets and market shares became his primary passion."Jake felt a surge of hope. "Will you help me?""I can't fight your battles for you, Jake. But I won't let your fat
She led him to a small technical deck near the ship's bow, accessible only to maintenance crew but currently deserted. The morning sun bathed the metal surfaces in warm light, and the sound of the ocean was louder here, more immediate."This is where I come to think," Amity said, settling onto a maintenance crate. "Away from the performances, the expectations, the careful choreography of being someone's daughter."Jake joined her, the metal warm under his hands despite the morning breeze. "What will you tell your father?""The truth, probably. That I'm not coming back to Sydney. That I'm tired of pretending his world is the only one that matters." She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "He'll threaten to cut off my trust fund, of course.""Would that change anything?"Amity was quiet for a long moment, considering. "It would make things harder. But I've been earning my own money for two years now. The violin commissions, the performance contracts—they're mine. Clean m
Before Miles could respond, Jake slipped out the door. He heard his mother's voice rising in his defense as it closed behind him, buying him time he desperately needed.The ship's corridors were quieter now, most passengers having retired to their cabins after the evening's entertainment. Jake wandered aimlessly at first, replaying the night's events in his mind. The revelation of Amity's true identity had been shocking, but it hadn't changed how her music made him feel—or the connection he'd sensed between them.Without consciously deciding, he found himself heading toward the crew deck again. This time, however, he was intercepted before he could get far."Mr. Monroe." Liam Jenkins-Whitmore stepped out from an alcove, blocking Jake's path. "A word, if you don't mind."Jake tensed, expecting another confrontation, but Liam's expression was surprisingly conciliatory."I owe you an apology," Liam said, gesturing toward a nearby sitting area. "For what my sister revealed about my person
The small rehearsal room suddenly felt impossibly crowded. Jake found himself caught between two patriarchs, each radiating the kind of power that could destroy careers with a phone call."Richard," Miles acknowledged with icy politeness. "I wasn't aware you were aboard.""I boarded at the last port when I learned of my children's... adventures." Richard's gaze swept the room, taking in Jake's defensive posture beside Amity, Liam's obvious discomfort, and the security officers' barely contained desire to be anywhere else. "It seems we need to have a conversation.""Father, I don’t have time for yours or Mr. Monroe’s games, I’m tried of it actually one moment I’m being called a gold digger, because I don’t dress like normal rich people, offered to join them after finding out just who I am with even more disdain than the first comment, accused that you father paying for my violin was paid for and designed for by using your money, which it wasn’t thank you. Oh and now I’m gone to a manip