Chapter 29
They were filling a void of safety that had been hollowed out by their own parents. I sat in the single armchair by the port hole, watching the ocean churn below us. The water was a deep, bruised purple in the fading light. We were moving. The ship was still sailing toward its next destination, but for us, the journey had stopped.
We were in limbo, waiting for the real world to catch up with us in Miami. I checked my watch. It had been 2 hours since the scene in the restaurant. 2 hours since I watched my son being dragged away by security. I should have felt triumphant. I had completed the mission. I had secured the targets. But all I felt was a heavy, cold exhaustion.
It is a specific kind of fatigue that comes from realizing your entire legacy, the bloodline you worked so hard to protect, has curdled into something unrecognizable. There was a soft knock on the door. I stiffened. I expected the captain or maybe a steward collecting the plates. ‘Stay there,’ I told the kids.
I walked to the door and opened it just a crack. It was not a steward. It was Austin. He looked terrible. His floral shirt was torn at the shoulder, probably from the struggle with security. His face was blotchy and swollen. He was not wearing handcuffs, which surprised me. Standing behind him was a young security guard who looked uncomfortable shifting his weight from foot to foot.
I told him I needed to give you Leo’s asthma inhaler, Austin whispered. He would not look me in the eye. He looked at the door frame. Please, Dad. Just 5 minutes. I looked at the guard. He has 5 minutes, sir. The guard said, checking his watch. Captain’s orders are strict confinement, but Mr.
Slater insisted it was a medical emergency for the boy. I knew Leo did not have asthma. He never had. It was another lie, another manipulation. Austin was using a fake medical conditions to buy time just like he used fake love to buy validation. I stepped back and opened the door wide enough for him to slip in.
‘Make it quick,’ I said. Austin stepped inside. The moment the door clicked shut, the mask fell. He did not look for Leo. He did not ask about the inhaler. He did not even look at the children eating on the floor. He turned to me and grabbed my arm. His hands were clammy. ‘You have to drop the charges,’ he hissed.