Chapter 4: Engine Room
They found me again the next morning near the coffee station on the upper deck.
Dad led. Mom followed half a step behind. Vanessa wore the navy shirt with Miller Family Cruise still crisp across the chest, as if embroidery could restore a balcony. Brandon hovered with the expression of a man who had married into a bill he did not fully understand.
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Dad opened with volume: the cabins were unacceptable, the packages had vanished, the whole ship needed to know I had sabotaged a family vacation. I listened until the sentence about sabotage required an answer. Then I said the only sabotage had been a text that removed the person whose card appeared on every confirmation. The agency had executed changes the account holder was entitled to make. If he wished to upgrade, the guest services desk accepted payment from people whose names were on the folios they wished to improve.
Mom tried a softer register—misunderstanding, stress, the word family redefined in real time. I asked whether the new group chat had room for the woman who had paid $21,840. Silence did the rest. Vanessa muttered about drama. I pointed at the gold band on my wrist and the basic bands on theirs and suggested drama was a luxury interior cabins near the engine could discuss among themselves.
