Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Gray Dress"What did you say, sweetheart?" I whispered.

Mia tried to answer, but a tremor passed through her body. I kept my hand near her cheek without moving her. The island's medical director, Dr. Leila Hassan, came running with two nurses and a stretcher fitted with spinal supports.

"Tell me exactly what happened," she said.

"A fall from the upper deck. She lost consciousness. Her grandfather struck her face afterward."

My father puffed out his chest. "I was waking her up."

"Then please step back," Leila said, her voice flat. "Now."

She checked Mia's airway, pupils, and pulse while the nurses fitted a neck collar. Mia whimpered. I wanted to gather her into my arms, but Leila caught my eye.

"Let us stabilize her first, Elena. You're helping by staying right here."

On the deck, Sarah yelled, "Is somebody going to care about my dress?"

Marcus arrived wearing a navy security uniform, followed by four officers. He didn't look at the bride. "East helipad is clear. Aircraft inbound. All video has been secured locally and off-site."

My mother came down the steps. "Who exactly do you think you are, ordering people around?"

"The person you should have listened to eight years ago," I said.

Greg descended behind her. "Elena, what does 'chairwoman' mean?"

I stood, my knees unsteady. "It means the island belongs to my company. The resort, the villas, the dock, the planes that brought your guests here. Every invoice you thought your family paid came to my office."

My father's laugh sounded almost desperate. "That's impossible. You're an accountant."

"I trained as one. I also founded Meridian Holdings."

Sarah clutched her stained gown. "You're lying."

Marcus handed me a tablet showing the wedding agreement. At the bottom, under owner authorization, was my signature: Elena Mercer, Chairwoman and Majority Shareholder.

Greg read it. "You told me your sister had some kind of clerical job."

"That's what she wanted you to think," I said.

A rotor's distant thrum reached us. Leila signaled that Mia was ready to move. I followed the stretcher toward the helipad while security cordoned off the terrace.

Just before we reached the gate, Marcus's earpiece crackled. He listened, then leaned toward me.

"We found someone trying to delete the east-deck footage," he said. "It wasn't a guest."

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"Who?"

"The resort's operations manager. And he says your father ordered him to do it."