Chapter 4

The ride to the marina was a study in exclusion. Harrison and Brooke sat in the front of the town car, their heads close together, their conversation a low murmur of shared jokes and private references. I sat in the back, a ghost in their presence, the city lights blurring past the window.

The yacht was impressive, a gleaming white vessel decked out with fairy lights. A table for two was set on the deck, complete with champagne and a single red rose. It was a perfect romantic setting, designed for a woman who wasn't me.

I had planned to use this evening to have a real conversation, to lay out the broken pieces of our life and ask him if there was anything left to salvage. Now, that seemed like a naive fantasy.

Harrison tried to play the part of the attentive husband. "Remember our first trip on the water?" he asked, pouring me a glass of champagne. "You were so scared of the waves."

I gave a weak smile, playing along with his charade. The memory was tainted now, another scene in his long-running play.

"You promised you'd never let anything happen to me," I said, my voice soft. The words hung in the air between us, a reminder of a promise he had shattered.

He didn't seem to notice the accusation in my tone. He was too caught up in his own performance.

I tried to speak, to tell him about the fraudulent license, about the endless lies. "Harrison, we need to talk about-"

A wave of dizziness washed over me. The deck of the boat seemed to tilt, the fairy lights blurring into a dizzying smear. My head felt heavy, my limbs like lead.

"Are you alright, Ava?" Harrison asked, his concern sounding hollow. "You look pale. Maybe you're just seasick."

I knew it wasn't seasickness. I looked at the champagne glass in my hand. He had drugged me. The realization was a cold, sharp shock.

My consciousness faded, the sound of his and Brooke's laughter echoing in the distance as the world went dark.

I awoke in a small, stuffy cabin below deck. My head throbbed, and my mouth was dry. A deep, cold anger burned through the haze of the drugs. He had drugged me to get me out of the way.

I stumbled out of the cabin, my legs unsteady. I could hear cheers and applause from the upper deck. I pulled myself up the narrow stairs, my knuckles white as I gripped the railing.

The entire HRT team was on the deck. A banner hung from the mast: "CONGRATULATIONS ON THE PROMOTION, BROOKE!"

Harrison stood beside her, his arm around her waist, a proud, beaming smile on his face. This wasn't a romantic dinner for us. It was a surprise party for her. He had chartered the yacht, set the romantic scene, all for Brooke.

The coldness I felt was no longer just emotional. It was a physical chill that seemed to seep into my bones. He was presenting her with a diamond necklace, the same one I had admired in a jewelry store window weeks ago. He had told me it was too extravagant.

"To the most brilliant analyst the FBI has ever seen," he toasted, raising his glass. "And to the woman I promise to spend the rest of my life with."

The world tilted again. I stumbled back, catching myself on the railing before I fell. I saw it all now. He hadn't just drugged me to avoid a difficult conversation. He had drugged me so he could propose to another woman.

The noise from the party faded as I made my way back to the cabin. The boat, the party, the man I thought I knew-it was all a lie. He had drugged his "wife" so she wouldn't be an inconvenience at his engagement party to another woman. The cruelty of it was monstrous.

Later, the sounds of the party died down. The cabin door opened. It was Brooke. She glided into the room, the diamond necklace sparkling at her throat.

"Still awake?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I thought Harrison gave you enough to keep you out for the night."

She looked at me, expecting to see tears, to see me broken. I gave her nothing. My face was a blank mask.

"Get out," I said, my voice flat.

"Oh, don't be like that," she purred, circling the small cabin. "I just came to see how you were doing. It must be hard, seeing the man you love finally choose the woman he truly wants."

I just stared at her, my silence unnerving her.

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" she taunted. "Don't you want to fight for him? Don't you want to tell me he's yours?"

"I'm not interested in your secondhand goods," I said, my voice as cold as ice.

Her face tightened, her victory souring. "You're just a bitter, washed-up placeholder. He never loved you."

"Get out of my room," I said, standing up. I opened the door and gestured for her to leave.

She tossed her hair, trying to regain her composure. "Fine. Sulk all you want. He's mine now."

She swept out of the cabin. I closed the door and lay back on the narrow bunk. I was too tired to feel anything but a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.

I dreamed of our wedding vows. "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health." His voice, so sincere, so full of promise. It was all a performance. The vows were just lines in a script.

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, tracing a path through the grime on my face. How fragile a promise. How easily broken a heart.

I woke to Harrison gently shaking my shoulder. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," he said, his voice cheerful.

I sat up, my body aching. I couldn't even look at him.

I had to get away. I went to the county clerk's office and filled out the paperwork for a single status certificate. It was a cold, bureaucratic process, but it felt like the first real thing I had done in years.

Back at the house, I packed a small bag. There wasn't much to take. Most of the things in the house felt like they belonged to a stranger. In a drawer, I found an old cell phone I hadn't used in years. I had kept it for emergencies.

I powered it on. A single, unread text message from two years ago appeared on the screen. It was from my brother, Dustin.

"Ava, are you okay? Why did you say you never want to see me again?"

I stared at the screen, a cold knot of dread tightening in my stomach. I had never sent that message.