321 My father forced me to marry a billionaire who had been in a coma for nine months. Everyone said Ethan Thornton couldn’t hear me, couldn’t feel anything, and would never wake up. But that night, when I leaned close to the husband I never chose and whispered the truth, his finger moved—and his first words nearly stopped my heart.

The Sovereign Seas was a two-hundred-foot luxury megayacht docked along the Hudson River, its decks crowded with the city's ultra-elite, drinking high-end champagne and laughing under the bright summer sun. I walked down the gangplank wearing a stunning, backless emerald silk dress that Vivian had selected for me, my hair styled into an elegant, high chignon.

Concealed within the diamond pendant necklace resting against my collarbone was a micro-frequency digital recorder, hardwired directly to the tablet Ethan was monitoring from his bedroom.

"Ah, the beautiful bride without a groom," Jason’s voice boomed behind me as I approached the VIP deck lounge. He was wearing a casual white linen blazer, surrounded by three older men who looked like high-ranking corporate board members. "Gentlemen, this is Claire. The new Mrs. Thornton. The girl who married a monitor."

The men laughed politely, their eyes moving over me with an objectifying corporate curiosity.

"Nice to meet you, gentlemen," I said, keeping my voice perfectly calm, channeling every ounce of corporate composure I had learned while working at my father's old firm before it went under. "Jason, I was hoping we could chat about the upcoming quarterly shipping report. I was looking through some of the household files, and I noticed a discrepancy in the Macau logistics line."

Jason’s smile vanished for a microsecond, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous suspicion. He quickly bid farewell to the investors, grabbing my elbow and pulling me into the private captain’s lounge near the bow of the ship, slamming the door shut.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Claire?" he hissed, pinning me against the mahogany bar counter. "Who told you about the Macau line? Did that old witch Vivian send you to spy on me?"

"No one sent me, Jason," I lied, looking directly into his angry eyes, my heart pounding against my ribs but my voice remaining as cold as stone. "I'm just a girl trying to secure her own financial future. If Ethan dies, I get a fraction of the widow's fund. But if I know where the missing forty-two million dollars went... I could be a much more valuable partner to the new CEO."

Jason stared at me, his suspicion slowly melting away, replaced by the immense, blinding arrogance that Ethan had predicted would be his downfall. He let out a dark chuckle, pouring himself a fresh shot of whiskey.

"You're smarter than you look, sweetie," Jason laughed, leaning over the counter. "Yeah, I moved the money. The Macau manifests are completely forged. The board thinks the shipping containers are filled with medical supplies, but they’re empty hulls. By the time they realize the fund is dry, Ethan will be in a coffin, I’ll be the majority stakeholder, and the state prosecutors will be too busy looking at the dead guy's signature to care about me. You want a piece of that action? Keep your mouth shut and stay in my bed after the funeral."