Chapter 3 - High Seas Realities
By 11:00 PM, the cruise ship Sovereign of the Seas was cruising through international waters at twenty-two knots.
I had spent the last two hours securing the suite. I used the heavy brass room divider to block the main entrance from the inside, ensuring that no housekeeping staff or room service could enter without my knowledge. I kept David bound and locked inside the second bathroom, allowing him only ice packs for his broken jaw and water through a straw.
I knew I couldn't keep him hostage in a luxury suite forever. The cruise was scheduled for a seven-day itinerary through the Eastern Caribbean, with its first port of call in St. Thomas in three days.
If I went to the ship's security team right now and reported the assault, what would happen?
David Davis was a prominent billionaire’s son. His family held significant shares in the parent company that owned this cruise line. His high-priced defense attorneys would immediately claim that I was an unhinged, violent ex-military spouse who had brutally attacked her wealthy husband in a fit of psychotic rage. They would point to his broken jaw, his bound wrists, and his bruised face. They would paint me as a gold-digger attempting an extortion scheme on the high seas. In international waters, maritime law was complex, murky, and heavily favored those with deep pockets and political connections.
If I wanted justice, I couldn't just rely on the ship's captain. I had to outsmart David and his family before we reached land.
I walked into the bathroom where David was sitting on the tiled floor, leaning against the marble bathtub.
"We're going to make a phone call," I announced, holding up his encrypted satellite smartphone, which I had unlocked using his facial recognition while he was groggy from the pain.
David looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "To who?"
"To your father," I said, leaning against the sink. "Arthur Davis. The man who gave you that baseball bat."
David’s face went completely white. "No! No, please! Don't call him! If he finds out I got beaten up by my own wife, he’ll disinherit me! He’ll destroy me!"
"He's going to find out anyway, David," I said coldly, dialing the number listed as Father - Private Line in his contacts. "Because you're going to put him on speaker, and you're going to tell him exactly what happened in this room."
The phone rang three times before a deep, booming voice answered.
"David? Why are you calling me at eleven o'clock at night? Aren't you supposed to be celebrating your wedding?"
I tapped David on the shoulder with the baseball bat, giving him a look that promised immediate violence if he deviated from the truth.
David swallowed hard, his voice trembling violently as he spoke into the microphone. "Dad... it's... it's David."
"What's wrong with your voice? You sound like a child."
"Dad... the... the plan didn't work," David choked out, tears overflowing his eyes. "Sarah... she... she fought back."
A heavy silence hung over the line for five agonizing seconds.
"What do you mean she fought back?" Arthur Davis’s voice dropped into a dangerous, icy register. "Did you use the bat I gave you?"
"I tried!" David sobbed, completely breaking down. "I tried to hit her! But Dad... she was a Marine! She broke my jaw in three seconds! She bound my hands! She has all the papers, the drugs, the recordings! She's holding me in the bathroom!"
A sharp exhale sounded over the speaker, followed by the clinking of a glass. Arthur Davis didn't sound shocked. He sounded profoundly disgusted.
"You pathetic, incompetent fool," Arthur hissed through the phone. "I give you a fortune, I hire the best lawyers to prepare the paperwork, I give you the exact blueprint to control that girl, and you let a woman beat you senseless in your own suite?"
Listening to the old man's cold, callous voice through the speaker made my blood boil. It was crystal clear where David had learned his sociopathic behavior.
I took the phone from David's hand and brought it to my ear.
"Mr. Davis," I said, my voice as calm and sharp as a razor blade. "My name is Sarah Ellis. Or Sarah Davis, depending on how quickly my lawyer can file the annulment paperwork."
Silence on the line. Then Arthur let out a dry, raspy chuckle.
"Ah, the newlywed. You've got some fire in you, girl. I'll give you that. David always did have terrible taste in women, but it seems he accidentally picked a tiger this time."
"I’m not a tiger, Mr. Davis," I said flatly. "I’m a United States Marine. And your son just committed aggravated assault, attempted kidnapping, and extortion in international waters."
"International waters," Arthur repeated, his tone laced with heavy condescension. "Do you know who owns the maritime security firm that handles this cruise line, Sarah? I do. Do you know who sits on the board of directors for the port authorities in Florida? I do. You can hold my useless son in that room all night, but the moment that ship touches land, my security team will board that vessel. You will be arrested for attempted murder, high-seas piracy, and extortion. You will spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary while my lawyers turn your life into dust."
He paused, letting his threat hang in the damp bathroom air.
"Or," Arthur continued smoothly, "you can unlock my son, hand over the files, sign the non-disclosure agreement, and I will write you a check for twenty million dollars. You walk away, quiet and rich. What's it going to be, Marine?"
I looked down at David, who was staring up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me to take the money so his ordeal would end.
I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the cool discipline of the Corps steadying my pulse.
"Here's my counter-offer, Mr. Davis," I said into the phone, every word dripping with absolute poison. "I’m not taking your twenty million dollars. In forty-eight hours, when this ship docks in St. Thomas, I won't be meeting your private security team. I will be meeting the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the United States Coast Guard Maritime Safety Office, and a team of investigative journalists from the Miami Herald."
"You're bluffing," Arthur growled, his voice finally losing its cool composure. "You have no leverage."
"I have the audio recording of this entire phone call, Arthur," I said, holding up my own personal phone, which had been recording on speaker from the counter. "I have your son's written confession, the pre-filled syringes of illegal sedatives, and the aluminum bat with your son's fingerprints and my blood on it from when he lunged at me. And most importantly... I have the courage you thought you could beat out of me."
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I didn't wait for his response. I ended the call, smashed David's satellite phone beneath the heel of my boot, and locked the bathroom door behind me.
The battle lines were drawn. And the war had officially begun.
