One of Us Did It
Description
Five years ago, Eleanor Cartwright, the enigmatic wife of billionaire Michael Cartwright, vanished without a trace. Rumors swirled: she cheated, she fled, she was murdered. But no one knows the truth. Desperate for answers, Michael hires retired Detective Hugo Mallory, a once-brilliant investigator turned broken man after the tragic loss of his wife. Michael's plea for closure strikes a chord, and Hugo reluctantly takes the case. His first question is simple but chilling: "Who were the last people she was with?" Seven invitations are sent to a luxurious island mansion, and seven guests board the single boat to the secluded retreat. Each guest is unique, their personalities clashing even before the mansion's opulence impresses them. They settle in, ready for a perfect escape-until the staff unexpectedly departs. That night, a violent storm cuts the power, plunging the house into darkness. A scream pierces the chaos, and one of the seven is found dead. As the survivors grapple with fear and suspicion, buried secrets come to light. By the storm's third night, they uncover their shared link to Eleanor-and their motives for wanting her gone. The mansion becomes a trap as another guest falls victim, reducing their number to five. Just when paranoia peaks, Detective Hugo arrives, horrified to find a second body instead of answers. Hugo's investigation begins in a house full of lies, betrayal, and mounting dread. Someone on the island is a killer, methodically eliminating the guests one by one. As the tension spirals, Hugo must unravel Eleanor's mystery, uncover the guests' darkest secrets, and stop the murderer-before he becomes the next victim.
Chapter 1
May 15, 2025
“Five years,” Michael Cartwright said, his voice raw with frustration. “Five years, and no answers. I need you to help me find her.”
Detective Hugo Mallory didn’t bother looking up from his drink. His office was dimly lit, cluttered with files, and smelled of whiskey and regret.
“Five years is a long time,” Hugo muttered, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “People move on. Maybe you should too.”
Michael slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the empty bottle beside Hugo’s elbow. “I’m not here to listen to you philosophize about loss. I’m here because you’re supposed to be the best.”
“Used to be,” Hugo corrected, finally meeting Michael’s gaze. His bloodshot eyes and unkempt gray beard made him look older than he was. “What makes you think your wife wants to be found?”
Michael’s jaw tightened. “Eleanor didn’t run away. She didn’t cheat. She didn’t vanish into thin air. Someone took her. I’m not leaving until you agree to take this case.”
The name Eleanor Cartwright was familiar, even to Hugo. The media had feasted on her story for months after her disappearance. The glamorous wife of a billionaire, gone without a trace after a lavish birthday celebration on a private island. The rumors were endless: she was having an affair; she staged her own disappearance; her husband killed her.
Hugo leaned back in his chair, his expression hard to read. “I’ve been out of the game for years, Cartwright. Find yourself someone else.”
Michael’s voice softened, but the desperation in it was unmistakable. “I know about your wife, Detective. I know how it feels to lose someone you love and have no closure. That’s why I came to you. You understand what it’s like to want answers.”
Hugo flinched, the words hitting harder than he’d expected. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, he reached for the envelope Michael had placed on his desk.
Inside was a photograph. Eleanor, radiant and smiling, stood on the deck of a yacht, surrounded by six people. Hugo studied the photo carefully. The guests were blurred but distinct enough to identify: a man in a sharp suit, a woman in a bright red dress, another holding a camera.
“This was taken the night she disappeared,” Michael explained. “It was her birthday. We were celebrating at the mansion on Blackwater Island. The next morning, she was gone. No one saw or heard anything.”
Hugo’s brow furrowed as he examined the faces in the photo. “And these people? Who are they?”
Michael hesitated. “Friends, acquaintances… people Eleanor trusted.”
Hugo snorted. “Trust. That’s a dangerous word.” He tossed the photo onto the desk. “One of them knows what happened. Maybe more than one.”
“That’s what I need you to find out,” Michael said firmly.
The sea churned beneath the sleek, white boat as it cut through the waves toward Blackwater Island. Six passengers sat in silence, each clutching a gold-trimmed invitation embossed with the Cartwright crest.
Vanessa broke the silence first, her tone sharp and slightly amused. “I can’t be the only one wondering why, after five years of complete radio silence, Michael Cartwright suddenly wants us back on this island.” She adjusted her oversized sunglasses, her red-painted lips pursing.
“I assumed it was about closure,” said Marcus, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a tailored suit. His voice was clipped, as though he had little patience for small talk. “He did mention some new evidence in his letter.”
Sophia, seated across from him, looked up from her phone, her expression bright but calculated. “Maybe it’s a reunion of sorts? I mean, we all knew Eleanor… in different ways.” Her tone carried just enough intrigue to make everyone uncomfortable.
Dean, leaning casually against the railing with a cigarette in hand, smirked. “Closure, reunion, whatever it is, I bet it’s about the money. Billionaires don’t just invite people to private islands for tea and biscuits.” His rugged appearance and cocky demeanor suggested he thrived on chaos.
Ivy, clutching her sketchpad like a shield, glanced nervously at the others. “I thought maybe… maybe he found something. About her.” Her voice was soft, almost trembling.
Helen, the oldest of the group, raised a brow at Ivy. “Something? Or someone? I’ve known Michael long enough to know he doesn’t do anything without a reason.” Her sharp eyes scanned the group as though assessing their worth.
“What did you all have to do with her, anyway?” Vanessa asked, leaning back in her seat. “We can’t all have been best friends.”
“I met her once,” Marcus said stiffly, not offering more.
“More than once, I’d say,” Dean muttered, earning a glare from Marcus.
Sophia, ignoring the tension, gave a small laugh. “Oh, come on. We all know why we’re here. We were there"
Silence fell over the group, broken only by the sound of the waves.
Vanessa raised a brow. “And? What’s your point?”
Sophia leaned forward, her polished nails tapping the edge of the seat. “My point is, we were the last people to see Eleanor alive. And now, five years later, we’re being summoned back to the scene of the crime.”
“I didn’t even know half of you back then,” Ivy said quietly, her grip tightening on her sketchpad.
“You didn’t need to,” Helen replied. “Everyone who was there had something Eleanor wanted. Or something she knew.”
“Michael’s probably trying to scare us,” Dean said, flicking his cigarette overboard. “Maybe he thinks one of us killed her.”
“Did you?” Vanessa asked, her tone razor-sharp.
Dean grinned. “If I did, would I tell you?”
The boat fell into uneasy silence as the mansion came into view. Perched atop a rocky cliff, it looked even more imposing than it had five years ago. The waves crashed violently against the shore, sending salty spray into the air.
“Charming,” Dean said with a low whistle.
Vanessa smirked. “Don’t you just love a little mystery?”
One of Us Did It
10 Chapters
10
Contents
Save
Passion Exclusive
My Passion
Copyright © 2026 Passion
XOLY LIMITED, 400 S. 4th Street, Suite 500, Las Vegas, NV 89101