On My Honeymoon Cruise, I Returned to Our Suite for Medicine — Then I Overheard My Husband Planning to P.
u. s. h Me Into the Sea for My $300 Million The warm breeze over the Evermere Isles should have felt like the beginning of happily-ever-after.
Instead, by the third day of my honeymoon, something felt terribly wrong.
The Mercer Star—a multimillion-dollar luxury yacht given to us as a wedding gift by my billionaire father—suddenly felt less like paradise and more like a floating cage.
For three days, I had been fighting an unnatural exhaustion. My husband, Adrian Cole, kept stroking my hair and assuring me it was only seasickness.
Every night, he carefully handed me two small white pills. “Take these, Claire.
You’ll feel better.” I trusted him. Until that afternoon. I woke from another heavy sleep with my head spinning.
Something inside me insisted I get up. Using the polished wooden wall for support, I slowly left our suite and made my way toward the staircase.
Halfway down, my legs nearly gave out. I grabbed the brass railing and tried to catch my breath.
Then I heard champagne glasses clink below. Followed by laughter. “How are you handling the dosage, Adrian?”
