The yacht was a palace on water.

I stood at the railing while Manhattan slipped behind us, all glass and light and noise fading into something quieter. The Atlantic stretched black and endless ahead. No land. No jurisdiction. Exactly what I'd planned.

Caspian's hand settled on my lower back. Light. Possessive.

"You look beautiful," he said.

I turned. He was perfect tonight—black tuxedo, cufflinks I'd given him three anniversaries ago, hair just slightly loose in the wind. The version of himself he showed to cameras. To investors. To the two hundred people filling the deck behind us.

"Thank you," I said.

He smiled. Leaned in. Kissed my temple. The kind of gesture that looked good from a distance.

When he pulled back, his eyes moved past me, already scanning the crowd. Looking for someone more important.

I touched the empty space at my collarbone. Waited.

The gala was perfect. It always was when Caspian threw it. White tablecloths. Champagne towers. A string quartet on the upper deck. Waiters in crisp uniforms moving through the crowd with trays of caviar and oysters. Everyone who mattered was here—old money, new money, the kind of people who wrote checks that moved markets.

I moved through them like I always did. Smiling. Nodding. Letting them touch my arm and tell me how lucky I was.

At nine, Caspian took the microphone.

The crowd quieted. He stood at the center of the main deck under strings of soft lights, one hand in his pocket, relaxed. Confident. He looked out at the faces watching him and smiled.

"Five years ago," he said, "I married the most extraordinary woman I've ever known."

Applause. Warm. Polite.

He gestured toward me. I stepped forward. The crowd parted.

"Simone has been my partner, my anchor, my constant," he continued. His voice carried across the deck, smooth and practiced. "She has stood beside me through every challenge, every victory, every moment that mattered. Tonight, I want to honor that."

He reached into his jacket and produced a velvet box. Navy blue. Of course.

The crowd leaned in.

He opened it. Inside, a ruby pendant caught the light—larger than the others, set in white gold, flawless. Gasps rippled through the guests.

Caspian lifted the necklace and stepped behind me. I felt his fingers at the back of my neck, cool and steady, fastening the clasp. The stone settled against my collarbone, heavy and cold.

The applause was louder this time. Genuine.

I turned. Looked up at him. Smiled.

Then I touched the necklace with the tip of one finger. Just once.

Caspian kissed my forehead. The crowd sighed. Someone raised a glass.

I counted to forty in my head. Slow. Even.

Then I heard her voice.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The crowd turned.

Alondra stood at the top of the stairs leading from the lower deck. She was stunning—red dress, bare shoulders, hair loose and wild. Her face was flushed. Champagne, probably. Or rage. Hard to tell.

Security moved toward her. She shoved past them.

"No," she said, louder now. "No, I'm done being quiet."

She walked straight toward me. The crowd parted again, but differently this time. Uncertain. Uncomfortable.

Caspian stepped forward. "Alondra—"

"Shut up," she snapped. She stopped three feet from me. Her eyes were bright and hard. "You want to know why he gives you jewelry, Simone? Because he feels guilty. Because he spent last weekend in my bed. And the weekend before that. And the one before that."

Silence. Complete. Two hundred people holding their breath.

I didn't move.

Alondra laughed. It sounded broken. "You're pathetic. You just stand there and take it. Every time. Like a good little doormat. He doesn't love you. He never did."

I looked at her. Really looked. She was shaking. Desperate. Exactly where I needed her.

"Are you finished?" I asked quietly.

She blinked. "What?"

I reached up. Unclasped the necklace from my throat. Held it in my palm.

Then I reached into the folds of my gown and pulled out the velvet bag.

Caspian went white.

I opened the bag. Turned it upside down.

One hundred ruby necklaces poured onto the deck at his feet. They clattered and rolled and caught the light in a cascade of red.

The crowd gasped.

I looked at Caspian. His mouth was open. His hands were frozen at his sides.

"One for every woman you slept with during our marriage," I said. My voice carried in the silence. Clear. Steady. "One hundred betrayals. One hundred apologies I was supposed to swallow."

I dropped the empty bag.

"I'm done swallowing."

I reached into my other pocket. Pulled out the small blade I'd hidden there. Pressed it against my forearm and dragged it across in one quick motion. Blood welled up, hot and bright.

Someone screamed.

I stepped forward. Pressed my bleeding arm against Caspian's white tuxedo. Left a long red smear across his chest.

He grabbed for me. "Simone—"

I twisted away. Ran for the railing.

Behind me, voices. Shouting. Footsteps.

I climbed onto the railing. Balanced. The wind pulled at my dress.

Caspian reached the railing. His face was desperate. Terrified. "Simone, don't—"

I looked down at him. At the blood on his shirt. At the necklaces scattered at his feet.

"Goodbye, Caspian," I said.

Then I jumped.

The fall lasted forever.

The water hit like concrete. Cold. Black. I sank fast, dress pulling me down.

Then hands. Strong. Finn's voice in my ear through the regulator he shoved into my mouth: "I've got you."

Above us, muffled through the water, two hundred people screamed.