My hands shook as I opened it.
I pressed one button.
Then another.
A tiny green light appeared.
I whispered the emergency code my father had taught me
“Orchid seven. Family emergency. Maritime threat. Immediate extraction.”
Then I added one final message.
Do not contact the yacht. Assume everyone onboard is compromised.
I attached the audio recording I had secretly started before returning to the suite.
Their voices.
Every word.
Every plan.
Every mention of the three hundred million dollars.
