CHAPTER 7: The Rescue Ladder Does Not Bow

They hauled Leo out first.
Maren let them take him only because a woman in a coast-guard jacket looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I’ve got him, ma’am.” Not pretty words. Not sympathy. A promise with muscle behind it.
Leo reached back for Maren until another officer wrapped him in a thermal blanket and turned his little face away from the waves.
Maren climbed the rescue ladder on knees that barely remembered pride.
Her emerald dress clung to her like seaweed. Her hair streamed water down her back. One heel was gone. The diamond bracelet Vivienne had mocked at dinner still circled her wrist, dark under saltwater.
The officer helped her over the rail without flinching at the ruin of her appearance.
Maren saw the Asteria looming beyond the cutter, all luxury and lies, its guests pressed against the deck rails like paintings in a gallery that had just caught fire.
Vivienne stood among them, one hand at her throat.
Gideon was beside her now.
He had finally come down.
Maren wrapped the blanket around Leo with shaking hands.
“Did she let go?” the officer asked quietly.
Maren looked at her son before answering.
Leo whispered, “The diamond lady took Mommy’s hand off.”
No adult sentence could have been cleaner.