A/N: As promised, here it comes. This is a version of chapter 42, the one when Thierry jumps ship, from his point of view. I wrote it while editing the book. It was interesting and made me change some parts of the original chapter.

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The women standing against the stern's railing were stark opposites, the Yin and Yang of their gender.

Theresa, dark, stunning, in a stained white blouse and indigo trousers, hugging herself and biting her lips, knees probably trembling.

Anne, glowering, arms crossed over her black t-shirt, back against the railing. Tall, blonde and pale-faced, indomitable, sizzling—her glare an angry challenge.

She looked great in jeans, but the black skirt she wore now and her sinewy legs, feet planted firmly on the deck, called out to me with their primitive, inane power.

I looked to starboard, breaking the spell. The shore was still lit by sunshine, but the storm would descend on us soon.

A ship carrying the red and white colors of the Coast Guard was a speck on the water. They were tracking us, undaunted by my gamble, by my threat to kill Anne. And where there was one of their ilk, there would be others. I couldn't escape them. They felt strong and safe in numbers, an army of ships against a single buccaneer.

I gestured in the ship's direction. "That's them, the Coast Guard. Didn't I tell them not to follow us?"

They doubted the veracity of my threat to kill Anne.

I looked at her. "Didn't I say you'd die if they did?"

She glared at me—not one to flinch or cower. Where were that woman's limits? What would break her, make her fall onto her naked knees, begging?

"Thierry," Theresa said, "let us leave. We'll keep quiet. There's no need to... do something rash."

I faced my ignorant sister. "Too late for that, thanks to her." I pointed at Anne "She brought in the Coast Guard and the police, led them right here. She even pushed their noses into the muck of the hold below, making sure they'd see the truth, or at least some part of it."

"Yep," Anne said. "I told them. I had a quick swim to the shore and met some people."

The mockery in her voice hit me like a punch. Yes, she was the one who brought me here, who had me cornered, but I wouldn't just roll over and give up. If I went down, I wouldn't do it alone—she had it coming. "But now you're back here," I told her, "and... if these bastards get any closer, I'd have to kill you, and that—"

"Like you killed dad?" Theresa's voice was shrill. "Instead of waiting a couple of years to inherit his shares, you decided to... take a shortcut?"

Dad's death—I still saw his face, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as he lost his balance at the top of those damn stairs.

The only one knowing the truth about his end was me. But did it matter now? I was doomed anyway.

"No." I hadn't murdered him, and I hadn't been the one who had started the fight. "It's not that easy. I could and would have waited, biding my time." All my life had been nothing but waiting, and I could have waited a few more years.

"Then what was it?" Theresa asked.

Did she really not know what her acts had triggered?

"Guess." I challenged her. "Let's see if you can solve the riddle."

Yet she wasn't the one to answer. Anne was—I should have expected that—and her voice was cold as she did so, razor sharp, judgemental. "Your father planned to change his will after we told him what you did."

Theresa's mouth opened in surprise.

Yes, after Theresa and Anne had told him, matters had escalated. But there was no sign of guilt in my sister's face. Innocence and astonishment born from naivety—she was good at that.

"She's right," I said. "As you know, according to dad's will, I'd inherit a large part of his shares of TCorp, enough to make me the majority owner. That night, after your... betrayal, he told me he wanted to change that."

Anne wasn't one to be quiet. "So you killed him," she said, "knowing that no one would be able to prove your deed and that the police would cover you."

"You're almost right," I said, not taking my gaze off my sister. "But I didn't kill him, at least not intentionally. It wasn't murder." Didn't these women know that murder required intent? "We had a loud discussion. He was excited, and so was I. He struck out at me." The fool. "But... I'm not a child anymore. I hit back. Not hard. But we were at the top of that stair... He fell. So, it was just an accident. But who'd believe this?" No one would.

The only one who'd be able to see the truth was Theresa. She knew the old man well enough.

Her face was impassive. Probably gone into shock, fleeing reality for fiction. She was so different from Anne, who certainly was stabbing me with her eyes right now. But I stayed focused on my sister.

"So, you see," I told her. "Anne's guess wasn't quite right... but she was close." Anne was so much more than Theresa. "She's a smart one, your friend; she's got what it takes. Clever enough to see patterns, such as... creative expense management. Courageous enough to stand up to her boss and to the boss of her boss, to report someone from Top Floor, such as me. Smart and courageous. Brain and heart, and a good dose of ambition. That's what attracted me to her in the first place."

I finally turned towards Anne. She was the only one who mattered here. "A woman like you..." She stood there in all her feminine glory, unfazed. "... you could have had anything as long as you played in the right team, followed the right leader. I offered that to you, a place in my team, way back, when... the future was still mine. Do you remember?"

Way back when I still had options.

I remembered the way she had stood in my office, the gleam in her eyes when I had told her of what I would offer her if she just had given in to me, had bowed her rebellious head—just to me, no one else.

Now, she merely looked at me and shrugged as if our meeting had been inconsequential. But the thin line of her mouth told me it had mattered, that she had been thoroughly tempted.

"Yet you declined my offer," I continued. "You ran to my father instead. That was the wrong choice, it cost you the chance of a lifetime. It cost you the power and the riches that could have been yours."

She smirked. "Power and riches aren't everything. There are other values... The kind of values your father embodied. Hard work. Respect for other people. Honesty."

She had no idea. I raised a hand to stop her. "Wait... you don't know the man. Yes, he was a hard worker. But so are we... you and I." We were so similar, she just didn't know. "As to respect... don't be mistaken, he didn't respect other people, he just used them, manipulated them. He could dance circles around anyone, especially around those who didn't know him well, with his old man's charm and his talk about doing the right thing, about honesty, and about... hard work. But do you really think that this was his true face? His only face? Do you really believe he built the company by just being good and honest? He was ambitious and ruthless, just like any other. Don't you agree, Theresa?"

Theresa understood.

I kept my eyes on Anne. Her mouth had softened now as if listening. I did want her to understand, too.

"He never killed anyone," my sister said.

"Maybe," I answered, "we don't know that. But he was a tyrant, keeping you and mom at home and under control. And he made sure I was always one step below him, I was always his little boy. He never trusted me to run the show. That's where it all started. With him. He made us into what we are today... a pampered, incompetent girl lost at sea... and a pirate about to lose his ship and freedom."

Thunder made Theresa flinch. I looked up. The clouds had closed in on us.

"There's a storm coming." I turned back to Anne, searching her face for a sign of comprehension. "So... you see. Things are not always what they seem when you're looking at them from afar."

"Theresa a girl lost at sea, and you a pirate about to lose his freedom." She smiled as she recited the image I had painted. "Maybe yes, maybe that's who and what you are."

"And maybe," she continued, "it all was your father's doing, I wouldn't know that. He may have been the kind of person you told us about. But we all have parents, each and every one of us, and their deeds resonate through all our lives. You're not alone there. I have a mother who's living in a mess, who has the temper of a three-year-old, and a tongue with edges as sharp as knives. I fled her and ended up as a teenager without anything... no money, no qualification, no home. But I went on and built a life of my own. Yes, it is a small life. Nothing glamorous. No yacht... no driver... there isn't even a microcar in it. Yet that life is my creation, not my mother's. She's not accountable for it. Your parents are not responsible for who or what you are. Yes, they've set you into this world. And when you start making your own journey, the pack on your back holds much of what they gave you. That pack may burden you or it may help you. But it's up to you to chose what to do with it, what to throw away from it, and what to keep. You're your own master."

What a lot of words to say she had had a rotten childhood, too. But at least she got it.

I nodded at her. "As I said, you've got a brain and a heart."

My hands urged to grab this woman's naked arms, pull her towards me. But she looked at me in disdain as if thinking she was the only one who was brave and smart here.

Brave and smart she was, and she had been so, the day before yesterday, when she had jumped ship.

"They helped you to escape back then, your brain and your heart," I said, "when you found yourself trapped on my cabin's balcony. You climbed the railing and looked down on me, stubborn and defiant. You knew you were cornered, you had no way to go. But you didn't give up. You still had a chance, even if it was a slim one. And you took it... you jumped."

Yes, she had seized her chance. Just jump ship and swim ashore. I looked to starboard, where the Coast Guard ship had lit a red light at the top of its mast in the failing light of the day.

The shore beyond was far away, but it might not be too far. Farther than what Anne had swum.

They wouldn't see me in the dark.

They'd never be able to track me.

They'd think I had drowned.

They wouldn't care. Most of them.

Anne's eyes were on me, her head at a slight angle, as if reassessing.

Would she care?

Would she recognize me for what I was?

I raised the gun and pointed its nozzle at her face, wondering if she would flinch.

She didn't. Indomitable.

A cold wind swept over the decks, tugging at her blonde mane.

"You jumped," I said. She had faced the challenge.

I would face mine, too. She would understand.

I offered her the pistol, handle first.

She frowned.

It was time to show her who I was.

I shoved the weapon into her hands. As I passed her, we were mere inches apart, the heat of her body a tickle on my skin, and I could have touched her. But I climbed the railing. Steadying myself against the pole of the flag, I gazed down at her.

She opened her mouth, just a fraction.

Did she recognize the homage I paid to her act?

The sea would either claim me and kill me, or she would cleanse me and leave me on the shore as a new man. I would accept whatever she gave me.

I jumped.