The Shattered Hand

The yacht party after the main event was Vincent's favorite way to entertain.

The family yacht cruised across the dark, choppy waters of Lake Michigan.

I stood alone at the stern, watching the city lights recede.

"Isabella, what are you doing out here?"

Sophia appeared behind me, wearing a tight dress that did little to hide the slight curve of her belly.

I can't believe I didn't see it before.

"Enjoying the view," I said, not turning to face her.

She came to stand beside me.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” She leaned against the railing, then pretended to stumble. “Whoa, careful. This railing’s a bit loose.”

As she said it, she grabbed my arm.

"Help! Isabella is trying to jump!" she screamed, her voice piercing the night.

Before I could react, she shoved me with all her strength.

The icy water swallowed me whole.

I broke the surface, gasping, and saw Sophia had "accidentally" fallen in too.

"Vincent! Help us!" she thrashed, a perfect damsel in distress.

Vincent and the others rushed to the deck. "Get them out of there!" he roared.

He dove in, but he swam straight for Sophia.

"Sophia! I've got you!" he yelled, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay, I'm here!"

I was less than thirty feet away, screaming his name. "Vincent! Help me!"

He didn't even look back.

A lifeboat eventually pulled all three of us out.

Vincent held Sophia tightly, his face frantic with worry.

"Is the baby okay? Are you hurt?" he demanded of the private doctor.

"We need to get her to a hospital."

"Turn the boat around! Back to the harbor, now!" Vincent commanded.

No one asked if I was okay.

No one cared that I had almost drowned.

In Vincent's world, only Sophia and her baby mattered.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a VIP hospital room.

A nurse left after checking my vitals.

I kept my eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness, and listened.

"Sophia and the baby are both fine, but she needs rest," the doctor said from the hallway.

"Thank God," Vincent breathed. "Give her the best care, whatever it takes."

"And Mrs. Torrino? She swallowed a lot of water, she has a mild lung infection..."

"She'll live," Vincent cut him off impatiently. "Focus on Sophia."

A pause.

"Mr. Torrino, there's something else about Mrs. Torrino's condition."

"What is it?"

"She's pregnant. About twelve weeks along."

The world went silent.

I opened my eyes, my hand flying to my flat stomach in disbelief.

A baby.

Our baby.

"Are you sure?" Vincent's voice trembled.

"Positive. Congratulations, sir."

Another long silence.

Then, his voice returned, cold as the grave.

"After the child is born, I want her gone."

"Sir?" The doctor sounded shocked.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Vincent's voice was lethal.

"Once that baby is delivered, handle the situation. Make Isabella Torrino disappear."