“Neither should this.”
His face changed.
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
He closed the door.
That frightened me more than if he had called security.
“Who changed my medical record?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who gave Adrian access to medication?”
“He shouldn’t have had it.”
“Who is missing the blister packs?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Claire, I have been trying to reach your family security office since yesterday.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“Satellite communication logs were altered.”
“Altered how?”
“Outgoing calls from your personal account were being rerouted.”
“By whom?”
“I can’t prove it.”
“But?”
“Your husband.”
The room went silent.
The captain continued.
“The nurse confronted him.”
“That’s why she’s isolated?”
“She isn’t sick.”
“What?”
“She believed someone entered her cabin after she questioned the medication.”
“She asked to stay locked in the forward crew section.”
I stared.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“We tried.”
“Adrian intercepted us.”
The captain looked ashamed.
“He said your father had authorized him to manage your health because you had a history of anxiety.”
“That is a lie.”
“I know that now.”
My mind raced.
“How much does Thomas know?”
The captain’s eyes shifted.
Everything inside me tightened.
“All of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Margaret?”
“Claire—”
“All of them?”
“I heard them arguing yesterday.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
That fit.
Adrian had been very interested in family finances before the wedding.
Not obviously.
Carefully.
Estate structure.
Trust protections.
Voting rights.
He said he wanted to understand the responsibilities that came with marrying into the Mercer family.
My father liked that.
Called Adrian serious.
Responsible.
I had loved that about him.
Now every conversation felt contaminated.
