The room was now leaning sideways, and Blaire clutched to the handle of stairs to keep from falling away.

Many of the people had foolishly left the room, going out on deck.

Blaire’s heart nearly stopped when she saw a little girl waist deep in the freezing water.

“Mama!”

She couldn’t have been more than six.

“Jesus, why is it always me?” Blaire gritted her teeth and waded through the icy water, picking up the girl and letting her clutch to her neck.

“Where’s my mommy?” she asked, tears streaming down her face in torrents.

“I’m sure she’s somewhere around, sweetie. Where did you last see her?” Blaire prayed for the girl to be intelligent.

“She went to see daddy. Outside, I think.”

“Who’s your dad, dear?” Blaire made her way back to the railing.

“The one in the yellow suit,” the little girl replied, her gaze sweeping around the room.

Blaire felt a lump lodge itself in her throat. The only one on this yacht wearing a yellow suit was Trevor.

And Trevor was Diane’s husband.