Finnegan
The helicopter descended smoothly toward the brightly lit helipad of my private yacht.
The night sea stretched endlessly around us, moonlight scattering across the dark water like crushed diamonds.
Abigail's face was pressed against the window, her blue eyes wide with pure wonder.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "Finnegan… this is yours? A whole yacht?"
I couldn't hold back the smile pulling at my lips. Seeing her like this — lit up, excited, not carrying the weight of everything pressing down on us — meant more than I could put into words.
The yacht gleamed below us. Sleek white hull, decks bathed in soft golden light, cutting a sharp silhouette against the dark water.
It was a sleek white vessel with its decks softly lit with golden lights, gleaming against the dark waters of the ocean. The kind of thing you only saw in movies or dreams.
