Chapter 1: The Man at the Next Table
At 71, I took my first cruise and fell in love with the man at the next table — on the final night, I followed him below deck and found my suitcase outside his cabin.
At seventy-one, I finally booked the cruise I'd dreamed about for decades.
I expected ocean views and quiet dinners.
I did not expect Richard.
He sat at the table beside mine the first evening.
Seventy-four.
Widowed.
Charming.
By the third day, we were having breakfast together.
By the sixth, I felt something I hadn't felt since my husband died.
Hope.
On our final night, Richard ordered champagne.
"To unexpected second chances."
I smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and immediately rose.
"I'll be right back."
Something about his expression bothered me.
So when he disappeared through a crew-only staircase...
I followed.
He went below deck and vanished around a corner.
Then I saw something outside Cabin 018.
MY suitcase.
I froze.
It had been inside my locked cabin an hour earlier.
I hurried toward it.
My luggage tag was still attached.
My name.
My room number.
Everything.
"Richard?"
No answer.
I reached for the cabin door.
Unlocked.
Inside, the lights were off.
Then I spotted my red scarf on the bed.
Beside it were photographs.
Dozens of them.
Pictures of me.
Boarding the ship.
Eating breakfast.
Standing on my balcony.
Some had been taken before I'd even met Richard.
My hands started shaking.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
Richard stood in the doorway.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"What is this?"
Before he could answer, an alarm suddenly sounded throughout the ship.
Richard grabbed my arm.
"We need to leave.
Now."
I pulled away.
"Tell me what's happening!"
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Who is Richard really — and why does he have those photographs?
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