Chapter 5 - Unmasking at the MarinaThe black town car dropped us off at the private marina two hours later. The sky was clear, the ocean a deep, brilliant blue, but the air between the three of us was thick with tension.

Marcus held the signed documents tightly inside his leather briefcase, looking like a man who had just won the lottery. Cecilia had already changed into a glamorous silk scarf and oversized sunglasses, sipping champagne from a paper cup.

“The private yacht is docked at Slip 4,” Marcus said, checking his watch. “The captain will take us out to the barrier islands for the afternoon.”

As we walked down the wooden pier, the smell of saltwater and diesel fuel filled the air. I looked ahead at Slip 4. Standing near the gangplank were four men wearing casual polo shirts and boat shoes—but I recognized the rigid posture, the concealed holsters beneath their shirts, and the tactical earpieces instantly.

Detective Miller’s team was already in position.

“Adrian,” I said, stopping in the middle of the pier.

He turned around, annoyed by the delay. “What is it now, Maya? The boat is waiting.”

“I left my passport in the car,” I lied, looking him straight in the eye.

Cecilia scoffed, turning her back on me. “Leave her, Marcus. The captain can launch without her. We have the signed deeds. We don't need the mark anymore.”

Marcus froze, his eyes snapping to Cecilia in warning, but it was too late. The words were out.

I smiled—a real, genuine, cold smile that wiped the arrogant expressions right off their faces.

“The mark?” I repeated softly, stepping backward out of Marcus’s reach. “Is that what you called the woman who fell down the stairs two years ago, Marcus? Or was she just 'Project Nevada'?”

Marcus’s jaw dropped. His face turned gray. “What... what did you just say?”

“Her real name is Cecilia Voss,” I said, pointing at the blonde woman in the lace cover-up. “And your real name is Marcus Voss. You’re forty-one years old, wanted in three states for wire fraud, identity theft, and bigamy. And that divorce decree you filed yesterday? It belongs to a parking ticket in Ohio.”

Cecilia gasped, dropping her champagne cup onto the wooden planks. “Marcus! She knows! How does she know?!”

Marcus’s eyes filled with wild, feral rage. He dropped his briefcase and lunged toward me, his fingers clawing for my throat. “You little bitch!”

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Before his hands could touch me, the four 'deckhands' at Slip 4 drew their weapons, sprinting down the pier with lightning speed.

“FBI! Don't move! Hands behind your head!”