I gripped the furniture until the dizziness eased enough for me to reach the hallway.
As I approached the main staircase, I heard voices rising from the private dining salon below.
My father-in-law, Aidan, was asking a question in a tone I had never heard him use.
“How much did you give her last night?” he asked.
Flynn answered without hesitation.
“Two pills before bed, and more in her soup today, so she should barely be conscious by midnight.”
My fingers tightened around the polished railing as the words slowly became recognizable.
I had watched Flynn carry my lunch into our suite himself, smiling proudly because he said he wanted to take care of his exhausted bride.
My mother-in-law, Fiona, spoke next.
“Then we’re still doing it tonight?” she asked.
“There’s a storm moving through after midnight, and I’ll take her to the aft deck for some fresh air,” Flynn replied.
