Chapter 5

"Indeed. Though I had no idea his daughter had taken up... entertainment." Miles glanced at Amity with barely concealed disdain.

"My sister has always been unconventional," Liam said, his tone suggesting this was a polite understatement.

Amity's eyes flashed. "I should return to the crew quarters. There's another performance tomorrow."

"Nonsense," Miles interjected. "Now that we know who you really are, you must join us in first class.”

“Why because you now know that I’m not just some good looking gold digger? Thanks but no thanks,” Amity stated before storming off.

Jake watched her go, torn between following and maintaining the fragile peace with his father. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Liam cleared his throat.

"My sister has always been... dramatic," he said with forced lightness. "She'll come around eventually."

Miles nodded approvingly. "Young women often need time to understand their proper place in society. Richard must be proud of her musical accomplishments, even if they're just a phase."

"Father sees it as an expensive hobby," Liam replied diplomatically. "One that's served its purpose in keeping her occupied while she matures."

Jake felt his jaw clench at their casual dismissal of Amity's talent. "She's not just accomplished—she's extraordinary. That performance was unlike anything I've ever heard."

Both older men looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. Miles recovered first, his expression hardening.

"Of course it was impressive, son. But let's not confuse professional appreciation with personal interest. Miss Jenkins-Whitmore is clearly going through a rebellious phase."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Jake asked, his voice carrying an edge that made his father's eyes narrow.

"Jake," Miles warned. "Perhaps we should return to our table. The Ashfords are waiting."

But Jake was already moving toward the ballroom's exit. "I need some air."

He found Amity on the ship's observation deck, her violin case beside her as she gripped the railing and stared out at the dark ocean. The wind had picked up, and her carefully arranged hair was beginning to come loose.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

She didn't turn around. "Shouldn't you be inside, networking with the appropriate people? I'm sure Rebecca Ashford is wondering where you've gone."

"How do you know about Rebecca?"

"Rich people aren't as subtle as they think they are." Amity finally faced him, and he could see the hurt she was trying to hide behind defiance. "Your father made his opinion of me quite clear—twice now."

"My father makes his opinion of everyone clear. It doesn't mean he's right."

"Doesn't it?" She laughed bitterly. "He called me a gold digger when he thought I was poor, and now he wants to invite me to first class because I'm rich. At least he's consistent in his superficiality."

Jake moved closer, close enough to see the unshed tears she was fighting. "What he said was inexcusable. Both times."

"The worst part is, he's not wrong about the money." Amity's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Everything I've achieved, every door that's opened—how do I know it's really because of my talent? My brother certainly doesn't think so."

"I heard you play," Jake said firmly. "Money doesn't create that kind of emotion, that kind of connection. What you did in there—that was pure talent."

She just looked back at him, “You remind me of someone that I once thought saw me really me no he only saw my father’s money so I left and never looked back.”

"Marcus?" Jake guessed, remembering the name from the exchange he'd overheard.

Amity's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop earlier. I heard your brother mention him." Jake leaned against the railing beside her, close but not touching. "For what it's worth, I think he was a fool."

The wind swept across the deck, carrying the distant sounds of the party continuing inside. Amity closed her eyes briefly, seeming to draw strength from the salt air.

"Marcus was my brother's roommate at university. He was studying music theory while I was at conservatory." Her fingers absently traced patterns on her violin case. "He told me I was different from other wealthy girls—that I had substance, talent. Then I overheard him laughing with friends about how he'd secured his future by dating the Jenkins-Whitmore heiress."

"I'm sorry," Jake said quietly.

"Don't be. It was educational." Amity's smile was sharp-edged. "That's when I started using just Jenkins professionally. I wanted to know if I could succeed without my family's name opening doors."

Jake understood that desire more than she knew. "And you did succeed."

"Maybe. Or maybe my father's influence follows me more than I realize." She sighed. "Either way, I'm tired of hiding who I am while simultaneously being defined by it."

A comfortable silence fell between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of waves against the ship's hull. Jake found himself studying her profile, illuminated by the ship's lights against the darkness of the ocean.

"What about you?" Amity finally asked. "The dutiful Monroe heir. Is that who you really are?"

"I don't know anymore," Jake admitted. "I've spent so long trying to be what my father expects that I'm not sure what parts of me are authentic and what parts are performance."

"At least you're honest about it." Amity turned to face him fully. "Most people in our world aren't."

"Our world," Jake repeated. "Is that what this is? Some gilded cage we're both trying to escape?"

"You tell me. You're the one who followed the violinist instead of staying with the perfectly suitable heiress your father selected."

Jake couldn't help but laugh. "When you put it that way, it does sound like rebellion."

"A small one," Amity agreed, her expression softening. "But it's a start."

From inside, they could hear the orchestra beginning a new set. The music drifted across the deck, a waltz that seemed to hang in the air between them like an invitation.

"Would you dance with me?" Jake asked suddenly. "Not as a Monroe or a Jenkins-Whitmore. Just as Jake and Amity."

She hesitated, glancing toward the ballroom. "Your father wouldn't approve."

"All the more reason to do it," Jake said, extending his hand.