THE WEIGHT OF HER NAME

Her youngest always called her Madam Thorn when he was upset. The name had started as a joke years ago—an imitation of one of her old stage titles—but tonight it landed like a verdict.

The tone in Rowan’s voice made her freeze.

He never raised his voice. Never used names. Never accused. Rowan had always been distant, emotionally hollow, as if the world had been drained of color long before he arrived in it. But Madam Thorn—that was different.

“What is it you want from me?” she asked, trying to steady herself.

“The truth,” he replied.

The word echoed louder than the sirens outside.

Could the night possibly unravel further?

Yes. It always could.

Maribel Thorn had searched for Rowan for hours after the alarms began, pushing past bodies in corridors slick with seawater and blood, whispering his name into the chaos. She had feared finding him among the dead more than anything else in her life. That fear still sat lodged in her chest like broken glass.

And yet, somehow, survival felt worse.

It wasn’t enough for him. Not anymore.

She remembered another boy—years ago—another incident she had buried beneath money, doctors, and silence. After that night, she hired specialists, therapists, watchers. Not because she cared about the truth, but because she feared it.

The new captain stepped forward, his voice smooth, practiced. Too practiced. It carried a familiar roughness beneath the polish, an accent she hadn’t heard in decades. Maribel’s breath caught.

Everyone else in the hall wore borrowed coats or torn uniforms. Only she and Rowan stood untouched, as if marked apart.

“I know I’m not who you think I am,” Rowan said quietly.

Her heart thundered.

Was he suggesting what she had sworn was impossible?

She wanted—desperately—to believe she had taken her son to the hospital all those years ago. Time had eroded her memory. Her journals had burned in the estate fire. Convenient, really.

The room was crowded with survivors, ghosts, and the nearly dead—but Maribel could only see Rowan’s eyes. Cold. Accusing. Familiar.

Even if he wasn’t truly hers… she had raised him. Fed him. Molded him.

“I am not Rowan Thorn,” he said. “My father was Jin Park. My mother is Elara Jinx. My name is Ashen Jinx. The child who vanished thirteen years ago.”

Her knees buckled.

She reached for him, instinct overriding reason, but he shoved her hand away. The rejection stung more than the revelation. Maribel leaned against a nearby cart, her eyes falling on the covered forms stacked upon it.

Too many.

Far too many.

“What happened to him?” she whispered, lifting one sheet just enough to see.

Jin Park—once flamboyant, loud, always dressed like life was a party—was unrecognizable. The bite marks on his throat were horrifying enough. The blade lodged in his chest made her stomach turn.

“Aiden left him,” Ashen spat. “And Min-Seo ended it before the infection took him.”

“Lies!” Maribel screamed.

The word tore her throat raw as she repeated it again and again.

“My Aiden would never kill anyone!”

Not her Aiden. He was cursed. That was all. Once the curse was broken, everything would return to normal. Tea in porcelain cups. Cake in sunlight. No bones. No monsters. No blood.

Something crashed from above.

A body fell from the ceiling and burst against the floor with a sickening sound. Min-Seo gasped, recognizing her ex-husband too late.

Maribel hadn’t even known he was on the ship.

Then the captain appeared.

He didn’t walk—he drifted. A crooked smile fixed to his face as if carved there. He removed his hat and tossed it at Maribel’s feet.

As he approached, recognition struck her like a blow.

“C—Calder?”

Her first husband.

Her only husband.

The only man who ever made her feel powerful—and the one who destroyed her completely.

“You look disappointed,” Calder said cheerfully, wrapping her in a cold embrace. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

“You’re dead,” she whispered. “I— I watched you die.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “You arranged it beautifully. But when Aiden mentioned a family reunion, I couldn’t resist. Death has its perks.”

He glanced at one of the corpses. “Ah. Lionel. Still smells like seawater.”

“It’s complicated,” Maribel murmured.

“Oh, I love complicated,” Calder replied. “Sit. Tell me everything.”

“YOU MONSTERS!” Min-Seo screamed, clutching Jin’s body. “Look what you’ve done!”

Maribel rushed to her, hands shaking. “Please—don’t anger him.”

She alone understood Calder’s cruelty. One affair had been enough to turn love into lifelong vengeance.

“He’s a ghost!” Min-Seo sobbed. “He doesn’t frighten me!”

Calder laughed, the sound filling the hall. “Jin used you.”

Min-Seo went still. “Even so, I loved him. And you will answer for this curse.”

Maribel looked around.

Every living and dead soul here was tied to her somehow. Lovers. Victims. Children. Friends.

They blamed the ship.

But the rot had started long before it ever set sail.

Elaine Jinx stood silently at the edge of the room, watching. Waiting.

This was the moment she had endured for years.

Maribel couldn’t meet her gaze.

Of all her sins, killing Lionel had been the worst. Worse even than what she had done with Aiden. Lionel had been the only thing Calder loved without condition.

And now he had returned to collect.

Thunder shook the walls. Glass splintered.

Maribel turned to Elaine at last.

“We were supposed to leave together,” she said.

The truth settled over the room like ash.

The curse was never in the ocean.

It was never in the ship.

It had lived inside Maribel Thorn all along.