Chapter 5 - The Guest in Cabin 8142
I asked Tessa to meet me in a public place.
Not my replacement cabin.
Not security.
The coffee bar beside the central atrium had cameras, staff, and enough passengers that nobody could quietly corner me.
Tessa arrived ten minutes later carrying nothing.
Smart.
“If anyone asks,” she said, “I’m explaining your room-transfer options.”
“Fine.”
She slid into the chair opposite me.
“I checked the entry log twice.”
“And?”
“Cabin 8142 opened your suite for forty-one seconds.”
“Guest key?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me the registered name?”
Her eyes moved toward the bar.
“I could lose my job.”
“I understand.”
That was not manipulation.
If she refused, I would find another way.
She studied me.
Finally she whispered, “Dean Marshall.”
The name meant nothing.
Then she added, “The payment card is corporate.”
My stomach tightened.
“What company?”
“Hartman Holdings.”
Gregory’s father’s company.
I leaned back.
Daniel Hartman had booked a second cabin using his company’s credit card but registered the occupant as Dean Marshall.
“Do you know what this Dean Marshall looks like?”
“No.”
“Has the room been occupied?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Meals charged. Laundry. Room service.”
“So someone’s actually staying there.”
She nodded.
I remembered Daniel’s voice on the cabin phone.
You embarrassed my son.
If he was on the ship, why use an alias?
And why enter our suite while Gregory and I were being questioned?
The answer was inside my missing purse items.
“Did the system show where the 8142 key went afterward?”
“No.”
“Can anyone create duplicate guest keys?”
“Front desk staff.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
That brought us back to Voss.
I thanked her.
As she stood, she caught my wrist.
“Be careful.”
“I am.”
“No.” Her voice dropped. “I mean really careful. Voss asked me ten minutes ago whether you’d mentioned the original suite entry log.”
I stared at her.
“What did you say?”
“That you were upset and hadn’t asked anything specific.”
Good.
“Thank you.”
She walked away.
I stayed seated until she disappeared into the atrium crowd.
My phone buzzed.
A ship app notification.
GREGORY HARTMAN HAS SENT YOU A MESSAGE.
I opened it.
PLEASE STOP THIS BEFORE YOU MAKE IT WORSE.
Another arrived.
YOU HURT ME. I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU FROM THE CONSEQUENCES.
I typed:
WHY WAS CABIN 8142 INSIDE OUR SUITE?
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then vanished.
Gregory called instead.
I answered.
“Who’s Dean Marshall?”
Silence.
“Ashlynn.”
“Who is he?”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Interesting choice of word.”
“You attacked me.”
“With the bat you packed.”
“I want to resolve this privately.”
“Your father called me from inside the ship.”
That got him.
I heard his breathing change.
“You don’t know who called you.”
“Your father used my name.”
Gregory lowered his voice.
“Listen carefully. If you keep accusing my family of crimes, people are going to start asking whether your judgment is reliable.”
“My judgment was reliable enough to take your bat away.”
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
I looked across the atrium.
Eric Voss had just stepped off an elevator.
He saw me.
Then looked away too quickly.
Gregory continued.
“You’ve always been so proud of being the strong one. The Marine. The woman nobody can intimidate.”
My grip tightened.
“You married me knowing that.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I married you because of it.”
The sentence stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
Another pause.
Then he made a mistake.
“Dad said your board would never believe you were unstable unless we gave them something dramatic.”
My blood went cold.
“My board?”
Gregory realized what he’d said.
The call ended.
Across the atrium, Voss touched his earpiece.
Then started walking toward me.
I stood.
A new email appeared on my phone.
FROM: CALDER MARITIME SYSTEMS—EXECUTIVE COMPLIANCE.
SUBJECT: TEMPORARY SUSPENSION OF ACCESS.
My corporate account had been frozen pending investigation into “a reported violent incident involving a company shareholder and executive.”
The report had already reached Florida.
Fast.
Too fast.
I opened the attached incident summary.
The timestamp sat at the top.
10:42 A.M.
I looked at my own photos.
Gregory had attacked me at 11:07.
May you like
Someone had written the report twenty-five minutes before the bat ever left his suitcase.
📖 Read how a corporate violence report existed before Gregory attacked me—and whose credentials were used to send it in CHAPTER 6. 👇
