All Chapters of The Shattered Hand: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Why are you still up?"The hairs on my neck stood on end. But when Vincent walked toward me, his eyes held a rare, calculated gentleness.I kept my face a placid mask. "Couldn't sleep."He sat beside me, reaching out to pull me into his arms. "I went too far tonight." Vincent kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone.""It's fine," I said, gently pushing him away. "I understand you have to protect the family's image.""No," he insisted, taking my hand. "Isabella, you're important to me. More important than anyone."More important than anyone? Including Sophia?"I got you something." Vincent pulled a velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a diamond necklace that could buy a house."Vincent, this is too much...""Try it on." He fastened it around my neck himself. "My wife deserves the best."In the mirror, the diamonds glittered, cold against my skin. My heart was colder."I'm sorry, Isabella," he murmured against my hair. "I know how much tho

Tears slid down my temples as I let out a soft, deliberate cough.Vincent's entire demeanor shifted. He burst through the door, his face a mask of concern, clutching a bouquet of my favorite white roses. "Isabella, you're awake?"I kept my expression blank, as if I'd heard nothing."How are you feeling? The doctor said you and the baby are both fine." He sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand."We're having a baby," I said, meeting his eyes. "Are you happy?""Of course." He kissed the back of my hand. "This is a miracle."A miracle he planned to orphan."Vincent, I love you," I whispered, pulling him into a hug. "No matter what, I'll always trust you."His body stiffened for a fraction of a second. "I love you too, Isabella. Always."Always. The word was a joke on his lips.The next day, a scandal erupted. The headline on Art Weekly's cover was a bombshell: "GENIUS OR FRAUD? SOPHIA MARTINEZ ACCUSED OF PLAGIARISM!"I sat in the living room, watching the news report. "An anonymous

Sophia was gone.My hand shaking, I grabbed the burner phone and dialed the emergency number."Isabella?" My grandfather's voice was instant and sharp."Grandpa... help..." I was so weak I could barely form the words. "Sophia... poisoned me... the baby...""I'm sending men now!" his voice roared with a fury that promised retribution. "Hold on, child!"Ten minutes later, three men in black suits were in my room. "Miss Rossi," the leader said, his eyes taking in the blood. "We need to get you to a hospital.""No," I grabbed his arm, a new, icy resolve hardening inside me. "Vincent will find out. Stick to the plan. The death has to be real.""But, Miss, your condition..."“The blood?” I forced myself to sit up, a grim smile touching my lips. “It just makes the story more convincing. We do it now.”With my last ounce of strength, I smeared more blood on the sheets. Then I opened the safe and took out the divorce papers I'd prepared.Isabella Torrino. I signed my old name for the last ti

Vincent's POVI let go. Sophia slumped to the floor, a trickle of blood running from her temple."Vincent, I can explain..." she sobbed, crawling toward me."Explain?" I crouched, wiping the blood from her face with my thumb. "Explain this."I pulled out my phone and played the recording.It was from the salon, weeks ago."Vincent is so good to me, I almost feel guilty," Sophia's voice purred."And you're still stringing him along?" another woman asked."He’s such an idiot," Sophia's voice, smug and careless. "He still thinks I took a bullet for him. Once this baby is born and Isabella is a bad memory, this whole empire will be mine."The color drained from the real Sophia's face. "That's... that's a fake!""Fake?" I grabbed her chin, my grip like steel. "My men recorded you at the salon three months ago. Every single word."Terror bloomed in her eyes. "Vincent, we have a child together...""Marcus's child?" I sneered. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"She broke completely,

Isabella's POVIn a private clinic nestled at the foot of the Swiss Alps, I slowly opened my eyes."Isabella?" A white-haired man sat by my bed, his eyes filled with tears."Grandpa..." My voice was a faint whisper. "I'm alive."He squeezed my hand. "My child, you're finally awake."I looked out at the snow-capped mountains. "Where's Vincent?""In a prison in Chicago," my grandfather said, handing me a newspaper. The front page showed Vincent, gaunt and hollow-eyed, being escorted by federal agents. I felt nothing but a cold, distant emptiness."He deserves it," I said softly, letting the paper fall. "Grandpa, I want to start over."..."The surgery has a ninety-five percent chance of success," the doctor, Alexander Reed, told us. He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with kind, deep-blue eyes. "Isabella's nerve damage was never that severe. Her recovery was deliberately sabotaged. We can fix it."Lying on the operating table, I stared into the surgical lights."Don't worry,"