Chapter 6: No More Hiding

The sender was Alexander Ashford.

She'd sent her message only minutes ago.

I have read your message. If you still wish to preserve the Whitmore Hotel under your own direction, there is still something we can discuss.

Serena read the sentence again.

Under her own direction.

Nothing in the Mercers' agreement had said that.

The email continued.

I can make time tomorrow at 8 p.m. Shall we talk?

She considered for a moment, then replied.

Thank you.

I'm currently aboard a cruise ship, but I can take a call from here. Tomorrow at 8 p.m. would be very much appreciated.

Send.

The clock in the bottom corner of the screen already read past ten.

On land, it would be time to end the day.

Not on this ship.

Passengers finishing dinner drifted into the lounges and casino. Live music and shows continued until around midnight.

As the night deepened, the ship came awake all over again.

Serena closed the laptop.

She didn't think she could go straight to sleep tonight.

On her way back, she stopped at an information board in the elevator lobby.

11:30 p.m. — Midnight Gala Show.

The main theater.

There would also be live music and cocktails in the atrium before the performance.

Since boarding, had she chosen a single thing to do that had nothing to do with Adrian or the wedding?

She studied the board for a while.

Then she went back to her room.

She opened the closet.

Almost everything inside covered her neck.

At the very back hung a navy blue dress.

Its neckline curved gently open across the shoulders and collarbones.

She'd bought it, but never worn it.

Serena took it off the hanger and held it against herself in the mirror.

Part of the burn scars running from the left side of her neck to her shoulder showed.

For a moment, she almost reached for her usual wrap.

Her hand stopped.

Until yesterday, she would have thought first about what Adrian would say.

Tonight, she couldn't think of a reason to care.

Even after eleven, the central atrium showed no sign of settling down.

Golden lights ringed the three-story space, and a string quartet played in the center.

Glass elevators rose and fell slowly, with the night sea beyond them.

A champagne tower stood at the foot of the stairs.

People heading for the casino.

People heading for the theater.

People enjoying the music with a glass in hand.

Serena stopped.

For the first time since boarding, she was seeing the ship like this.

The wedding.

Adrian.

Chloe.

That had been all she'd seen.

Yet there were people here enjoying the night with no connection to any of it.

The musicians finished a piece.

Applause filled the atrium.

Serena clapped softly, too.

"Serena?"

She turned at the voice.

Chloe.

Wearing the ivory gown that left her shoulders bare.

Her gaze stopped at Serena's neck.

"That dress…"

Serena said nothing.

"Your scars are showing."

"Yes."

"What?"

"I know."

For a moment, Chloe seemed at a loss for words.

"But there are so many people here tonight…"

"There are."

Serena accepted a glass of champagne from a passing staff member.

"You don't have to force yourself to show them. Just because of what happened yesterday—"

"I'm not forcing myself."

Serena looked at her.

"I wanted to wear this. So I did."

She took a sip.

Chloe's eyes narrowed very slightly.

"What's going on?"

Adrian approached.

The moment he saw Serena, he frowned.

"That dress—"

"Doesn't it suit me?"

"That's not the point."

"Then there's no problem."

"Serena."

Ignoring the attempt to stop her, she checked the time.

"The show's about to start."

She headed for the theater alone.

A line had already formed in the passage leading to it.

Partway along, a staff member greeted them with an apologetic nod.

"I'm very sorry. This passage is temporarily closed while we move equipment for the performance."

The passengers stopped.

"If you're attending the show, please follow me this way."

A door that blended into the wall opened.

Beyond it was a world utterly different from the glittering ship they'd just left.

White walls.

Plain flooring.

Linen carts.

Staff carrying dishes.

At the end of the narrow corridor stood a crew elevator.

Serena's eyes widened slightly.

It was so much like a hotel's service areas.

Another whole building existed where guests couldn't see it.

She'd seen this world countless times at the Whitmore Hotel as a child.

"Please watch your step."

Prompted by the staff member, she moved on.

A deck plan hung on the wall along the way.

Their current location.

The theater.

The marina deck.

The cabin decks.

Service stairs connecting them vertically.

Her eyes followed the routes almost without thinking.

The line soon moved, and within seconds they were back in the ship's luxurious public spaces.

Eleven thirty.

The theater lights went down.

Deep blue light spread through the darkness.

The night sea filled the stage.

Dancers undulated like waves. A woman ran through their midst.

Hands reached after her, as though in pursuit.

The next moment,

her body lifted lightly into the air.

Supported by the dancers, she soared above the blue light.

She had been in the sea only a moment before.

Now she seemed to be flying straight into the sky.

A small cheer rose from the audience.

Serena watched her, alone.

Neither Adrian nor Chloe was there.

She didn't feel lonely.

Watching the stage.

Listening to the music.

Laughing when something amused her. Applauding when it ended.

It had been so long since she'd had time for something that simple.

The ship she'd boarded for her wedding.

That was how she had always thought of it.

Tonight, for the first time, she learned that it held sights and sounds and hours that had nothing to do with Adrian.

By the time the show ended, midnight had passed.

She left the theater with the other passengers.

Through the windows, moonlight laid a narrow path across the sea.

Her phone vibrated.

An email.

Alexander Ashford.

A reply confirming the time they'd arranged.

Eight p.m. as agreed.

Beneath it was another sentence.

One thing I'd like to confirm:

You still have no intention of giving up the Whitmore Hotel?

Serena stopped.

Her reply was brief.

None.

She didn't hesitate.

An answer arrived immediately.

I see.

And beneath it:

I'm glad that hasn't changed.

Serena's fingers stilled.

Hadn't changed?

As far as she knew, she had never met Alexander Ashford.