His fiancée ordered the bleeding maid to continue scrubbing—until the billionaire followed the trail of blood on the marble floor and uncovered the truth hidden beneath his family’s vast fortune.

PART 8

They ran.

At the lower boathouse, Weston started the rescue launch while Wren released the lines. Priya climbed aboard with the waterproof case. The yacht waited less than a mile offshore.

On the radio, Everett said, “The house should be burning.”

“Your plan failed,” Weston answered.

“Then Marcus goes overboard.”

Priya took the microphone. “Everett, you need the original deed. If Marcus dies, I drop it into the ocean.”

Silence.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“You have misunderstood my family for three generations.”

Weston guided the launch through the waves without lights. They approached the yacht from behind, hidden by its higher stern.

The radio crackled again, but this time Marcus’s voice emerged. “Priya, port side.”

Everett struck him. The sound carried through the open channel.

Priya gripped the rail.

“He means the port ladder,” Weston said. “Silas Jr. must have opened it.”

They came alongside. Weston secured one rope. Wren took the wheel of the launch.

“You and Priya return to shore,” he told her.

Priya was already climbing.

The yacht’s deck pitched beneath her. Weston followed, one hand at her back. They emerged behind the main cabin.

Silas Jr. sat at the helm ten yards away. One hand remained tied, but the other held a loose length of rope. Odalys stood near the rail with the black ledger. Everett kept his gun against Marcus’s shoulder.

Marcus saw Priya. He was thinner and older, but his warm brown eyes were unchanged.

“You came,” he said.

“I never stopped.”

Odalys spun. “How did you—”

Silas Jr. yanked the rope. A boom swung across the deck, knocking Everett’s arm aside. The gun fired into the air. Weston rushed him. They struck the cabin wall and fell.

Odalys grabbed Priya’s injured hand.

Agony nearly drove Priya to her knees, but she held on to the document case.

“Give me the deed,” Odalys screamed.

“It was never yours.”

Odalys pulled harder. The waterproof case slipped between them, skidding across the deck toward the rail.

Marcus kicked the wheel of his chair into her path. Odalys stumbled. Priya caught the case with her left hand.

Everett threw Weston off and reached for the fallen gun.

Wren climbed over the port rail carrying a flare pistol from the launch.

“Stop,” she ordered.

Everett laughed. “You never had the courage to fire.”

“That was the lie I told myself.”

She aimed — not at him, but at the yellow cylinders beside the fuel hatch.

Everett froze.

“You said they were fake,” Odalys whispered.

“They are,” Wren replied. “But your father is the only one who knows that for certain.”

The hesitation was enough.

Weston kicked the gun overboard. Silas Jr. looped the rope around Everett’s ankles and pulled. Everett hit the deck. Priya seized a utility knife from the cabin wall and cut Marcus’s restraints.

Her brother tried to stand, but his legs failed.

She caught him with Weston’s help.

For the first time in ten years, Priya put her arms around Marcus Osei.

He buried his face against her shoulder. “I am sorry.”

“You survived,” she said through tears. “That is the only thing you owe me tonight.”