𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔨

𝕬 𝕵𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖞 𝕺𝖋 𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖚𝖗𝖞, 𝕬 𝕾𝖊𝖆 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘

VINCENT'S POV

To whom it may concern,

I've never killed anyone.(Except when I had to). But I have made a career out of catching those who did- and every time , a part of me wonders whether I would be better at it. My job is to make sense of blood , lies and silence- yes silence. Quite frankly I don't solve murders because I care or I'm bound by some moral law. It's because I'm the best liar in the room. Death is a good business and God knows I've been crushing in on tragedy for years. Everyone thinks murder is loud. A scream. A bang. A bloodstain. But it's actually quiet, soft, intentional and practiced. Often the truth isn't in wat people say. It's in the silence between sentences.

The music didn't stop right away. It played on ; soft dreamy jazz as if the band didn't notice the sudden shift in the room. She lay sprawled on the ballroom floor right beneath th echandelier. Her limbs outstretched unnaturally, fingers outstretched as if reaching for help that could not be offered. A wine glass- shattered- rested near her hand. A thin trail of crimson traced its way from the corner of her mouth pooling into a parquet beneath her. Her eyes giving everyone a cold dead stare that seemed to declare the start of my work.

~ Benoit ~

WRITER'S POV

Isabella heaved a sigh of satisfaction as she beheld the splendor of the Celeste Horizon. It was worth her money. A master piece of modern luxury. Its gleaming white exterior reflected the golden hues of the setting sun as it prepared to depart.

Inside, the grand lobby was a vision of excess polished marble , a spiraling crystal chandelier , and golden railings that curved like the veins of an opulent dream. The air smelled of expensive perfume and aged whiskey, mingling with the faint scent of the sea that crept in through the open doors.

The main dining hall was a spectacle, with tables set in perfect symmetry, candlelight flickering against fine china and glasses of bubbling champagne. A live orchestra played soft, enchanting melodies, adding to the illusion that nothing could possibly go wrong in a place so perfect.

The upper deck, reserved for private guests, was lined with infinity pools, plush lounges, and glass-paneled balconies overlooking the vast ocean. By day, it was a retreat of sunbathing and exotic cocktails. By night, it transformed into a dreamscape of shimmering lights, where whispered conversations and stolen glances hinted at secrets yet to be unraveled.

Yet, beneath the grandeur, something felt off. The hallways seemed too quiet at times. The endless corridors of first-class cabins held doors that were always shut, as if hiding things best left unseen. And somewhere, deep below, where the engines thrummed like a restless heartbeat, the ship carried more than just its passengers. It carried secrets.

Isabelle stood in the upper deck her hair was in the wind with the evening sun resting warmly on the back. She had booked the whole cruise for a fortune and invited people to celebrate her wedding. Lately she did not feel safe it wasn't just because of her great fortune. Something eerie and queer always seemed to loom over her. Call it a premonition or paranoia. Therefore she always booked a whole restaurant when she ate outside or a whole plane if she didn't fly using her private jet. Her mansion was a fortress. She manipulated every detail of her life down to the the last detail.

Her premonition urged her to invite Vincent Benoit A detective Sergeant. Benoit was an old family friend. He promised Isabella's father to protect her. He is tall, standing at 6'2", with a lean, athletic build that speaks to years of physical training. His features are rugged, with a square jaw and high cheekbones, framed by dark brown hair that's beginning to show hints of gray at the temples. His eyes, a piercing shade of green, are constantly observing, searching for answers even when he's off duty. He has a scar just above his left eyebrow from a past case that went sideways, a reminder of the dangers he faces. His clothing is simple but polished-a well-fitted suit that doesn't draw attention but signals Authority. He was busy smoking a cigar looking out into the lake.

On the lower deck near the bow was Damien , her husband resting on the deck chairs bare chested. Which reminded her of that time in Fiji when Claire introduced him as her boyfriend. It was there where it all started. Isabella knew Claire was the type of girl who couldn't stay with one man for long. So when Claire confessed to her that she was ready to marry Damien she was stunned. But love has its own tricks and more often than not it is always a facade. Like murder it is just a story people tell themselves to feel important. Like murder it ends in promises permanence. Like murder it ends in silence.

Beside him was her cousin Charlotte in a bikini accentuating her curves, the top highlighting her bust and the bottom hugging her hips. Her skin was sun-kissed , reflecting her time spent outdoors. Her toned abs were visible, along with any defined muscle tone on her legs and arms. She also wore sunglasses and a beach hat, giving her a laid-back yet stylish vibe. She was giggling and fussing over her Kyle's brown n curly hair . With a small smirk he tugged a loose curl framing her face. She swatted his hand away playfully but her lips twitched into a smile. He tried again this time twirling the curl around his finger before letting it bounce back. Isabella snickered. She didn't understand why Charlotte was dating such a low life. She seemed very attached to him. Twice she had bailed the wretch of a man from prison because of some unscrupulous dealings. He was constantly high on drugs. Drank like a fish. It was obvious to everyone that he was with her only for the money.

A few meters from the was Isabella's Godmother, Amelie on her wheelchair staring into the sea with her nurse, Marie by her side. Amelie was a close friend of Isabella's father. They were in the Auction business together but after the loss of her husband and her friend she snapped. She was diagnosed with Functional Nuerological Disorder because of the psychological stress. One of the physical defects is paralysis. The doctors said it was a miracle she is still alive. Marie is always by her side to help her with her daily routine.

The captain's call as another couple entered the cruise wiped the smile off her face. It was her best friend and her husband, Claire and Theo Smith. She was dressed in a saffron sleek dress that accentuated her natural curves. She knew it because she had gifted her during her first date with Damien.

CLAIRE'S POV

Why the hell has Isabella invited us. Typical of her. Insensitive bitch. She always thinks the world revolves and bows down to her. She expects me to come and congratulate her for stabbing me in the back. Wasn't inviting me to their wedding enough. Now I have to smile as they cuddle up and kiss.

I don't know why I agreed to the invitation. Perhaps subconsciously it was because I thought the sight of me could awaken the fire of love Jericho once felt for me. I couldn't bring myself to admit it but I still ached for his touch. His embrace. His kiss. Perhaps that's why I've worn this dress. To remind him of what we had. And tell him how much it meant to me and that I know he still thinks of me. You can't love that much and become emotionless. I remember the amazing moments I had with Jericho and the thought of him sharing those moments with her makes me mad.

The moment I saw him I remembered Fiji. Past emotions were rekindled and in that instant I felt like jumping on him and kissing the hell out of him. His I should have known. Now the late night outs and postponing of our dinner plans were explained. How could I not see it before. Or was it because I was so obsessed with believing a lie. I should have stopped when I had a chance.

I only played along with it because I thought she was showing him the ropes before he took over the job of managing her estates. I mean that was the sole purpose of the introduction. Damien wanted to fulfill his dream and I was ready to see him through it. I was a fool for suggesting that they ask Isabella for help.

BENOIT'S POV

The Caribbean sunset wraps the ship in a soft, golden light as I stand on the deck, the cool sea breeze tousling my hair. The water stretches out in every direction, a calm, seemingly endless expanse, reflecting the fiery hues of the sky above. The gentle sway of the ship is comforting, almost soothing. Yet, beneath this tranquility, there's an unsettling tension in the air. The crew moves about, their laughter and chatter faint in the background, but I can't shake the feeling that something is about to shatter the peace. The vibrant colors of the sky grow darker, and as the sun sinks lower, I feel a chill creeping in, a sense that something ominous is waiting to unfold. And that curious soul is the calm before the storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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