The boat rolled hard to the left, forcing me to grab the chrome door frame of the main cabin.

Grant stepped toward me, his leather shoes slipping slightly on the wet teak deck.

“You’re too late, Vivian,” he said, his voice cutting through the wind. “The registry just updated. The Maribel is officially under Whitmore Holdings.”

Inside the cabin, Caleb Rhodes watched us, his hands deep in his pockets, his brow furrowed.

Lila gripped the paper deed tighter, her manicured fingers trembling.

My phone buzzed again, vibrating against my thigh.

I pulled the wet device out and swiped the screen.

Diane’s name flashed on the display.

I pressed the speaker button.

“Vivian, I’m on,” Diane’s voice crackled through the speaker, loud enough to rise above the engine roar.

“I see the transfer, Diane,” I said, keeping my eyes on Grant.

“It’s a temporary victory for him,” Diane said. “The Orange County Superior Court just received my emergency filing.”

Grant let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “An injunction takes days, Diane. The board vote is happening tonight, on this boat.”

“I didn’t just file an injunction, Grant,” Diane replied.