Chapter 5: The Last Thing She Had Left

For years after the fire, Serena had suffered the same nightmare.

Smoke. Heat that made it impossible to breathe. Adrian on the other side of the flames.

Only in the last few years had the dream finally begun to come less often.

Until last night.

In the dream, the flames suddenly vanished.

Instead, the ground gave way beneath her, and she fell into the cold sea.

Adrian was beyond the surface.

She reached for him.

But her hand couldn't reach his.

She gasped.

Serena jerked awake.

Her breathing was ragged.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck.

It took a while before she understood it had been a dream.

The nightmare she thought she'd escaped had returned in another form.

Morning light spilled through a gap in the curtains.

A little later, she recognized her room on the ship.

Her right wrist hurt.

The red finger marks from yesterday were still there.

She reached beside the bed.

For the small bag.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Ms. Whitmore, a delivery for you."

A member of the ship's staff handed her a thick envelope.

"The Mercers asked us to deliver this."

"Thank you."

She went back inside and set it on the table.

On the front were the words: Documents for Review Before the Wedding.

Then, after staring at the envelope for a while, she opened it.

Their address after the wedding.

Asset management.

Plans for supporting the Whitmore Hotel.

A few pages in, Serena's fingers stopped.

Voting Proxy Agreement Concerning Shares in the Whitmore Hotel.

She had never seen this document before.

She knew the terms of the trust her father had left.

Once she married, the Whitmore Hotel shares held in trust would pass to her.

That was all her father had stipulated.

But the document in front of her went further.

After the shares returned to Serena, she would delegate their voting rights to the Mercer side.

The parties to the agreement were listed as:

Party A: Serena Whitmore.

Party B: Mercer Holdings, Inc.

Those were the names on the page.

Serena looked down at the bottom.

Effective upon marriage.

Her fingertips went still.

The shares her father would return to her the moment she married.

At that very moment, this agreement would take effect, too.

The conversation she'd overheard in the observation lounge came back to her.

"She has no other choice."

"Because of the Whitmore Hotel?"

"Yes."

"On day six, she'll be my bride."

She looked at the agreement again.

Was this what Adrian had meant?

That evening.

Serena took the documents to the Crown Lounge.

The setting sun filled the windows on the topmost deck.

Adrian sat by the window.

Chloe sat opposite him.

She didn't get up when Serena arrived.

"What is it?"

Adrian asked.

Serena placed the documents on the table.

"What does this mean?"

He glanced at them once, then reached for his glass.

"Exactly what it says."

"This isn't part of my father's trust."

His hand stopped.

"All my father stipulated was that the shares would return to me when I married."

She laid the voting proxy agreement on the table.

"Your family prepared this, didn't they?"

"Yes."

He admitted it without hesitation.

"So what?"

"No one has ever explained this to me."

"I just did."

"Slipping it into a pile of papers for me to sign right before the wedding isn't an explanation."

Adrian frowned.

"Don't make this difficult."

"You always said you'd help the hotel."

"I will."

"By taking my voting rights?"

"We're not taking them. You're entrusting them to us."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You have no control over management and no money. Even if you get the shares back when we marry, what can you accomplish on your own?"

Serena pressed her fingers against the edge of the paper.

"So the Mercers will run it. What's wrong with that?"

"The Whitmore Hotel won't disappear?"

"We can at least keep the name."

At least the name.

Serena looked at him.

"As my father's hotel?"

"Are you still going on about that?"

Adrian let out a small sigh.

"That's why you have no other choice."

Serena went still.

The same words.

The words he'd said to Daniel the previous morning.

"So that's what you meant."

"What?"

"That's why you were so certain I couldn't call off the marriage."

Adrian didn't answer.

"Serena."

Chloe interjected softly.

"Adrian isn't trying to do anything wrong."

Serena looked at her.

"Wouldn't it be safer to leave it to his family than lose the hotel in its current state?"

Chloe gave a troubled smile.

"Most people would have had to let it go long ago, wouldn't they?"

Serena said nothing.

"If you marry Adrian, the hotel can keep the Whitmore name. So—"

"That's enough."

Chloe fell silent.

Serena turned to Adrian.

"Was this what you intended seven years ago?"

"What?"

"Your reason for marrying me."

For an instant, his expression changed.

"Don't start blowing things out of proportion again."

"Answer me."

"Our parents arranged the engagement."

He set down his glass.

"Besides, the reason doesn't matter anymore. Once we're married, everything will fall into place."

"Everything?"

"The Whitmore stays. You're taken care of. We get married as planned."

Adrian looked at her.

"What more do you want?"

She didn't answer.

Yesterday, she'd fallen into the sea.

Adrian had chosen Chloe.

Even then, one thing had remained.

Even if this man didn't love her,

he would protect the hotel her father had left.

That was what had brought her this far.

Serena lowered her eyes to the documents.

"I understand."

The tension eased from Adrian's shoulders.

"That's all you had to say in the first place."

Chloe smiled, looking relieved as well.

"Serena, I'm sure that's the best—"

Serena picked up the papers.

"I'll take these with me."

"Fine. Sign them before the wedding."

"I understand."

She stood.

That night.

In the ship's business lounge, Serena opened an old email.

It had arrived a year earlier.

The sender was the Ashford Group's Hotel Strategy Division.

An inquiry about an equity partnership with the Whitmore Hotel.

Among its terms were:

Continuation of the Whitmore brand.

Respect for the existing hotel's historical and cultural value.

Those phrases were there in writing.

They had requested a meeting several times back then.

Serena had declined every time.

She hadn't wanted to hand the Whitmore Hotel over to someone else.

More than that,

"You have me. The Mercers will put the Whitmore back on its feet."

She had believed Adrian.

Serena read the old email to the end.

There was one brief line at the bottom.

There is no need to decide immediately. As long as you still wish to preserve the Whitmore name, please contact me at any time.

Beneath it was a name.

Alexander Ashford.

Serena clicked Reply.

She thought for a moment, then began to type.

Would it be possible to discuss the equity partnership you previously proposed?

She wrote nothing more.

She wasn't deciding, here and now, to entrust the hotel to someone else.

She simply wanted to examine the offer she'd once rejected for herself.

She added her name at the end.

Serena Whitmore.

Send.

Your message has been sent.

She stared at the screen.

This was right. With that thought, she started to close the laptop.

At that very moment,

an email notification chimed in the quiet lounge.

One new message.