CHAPTER 1 — THE WOMAN ON THE FLOOR
The first kick landed before Khloe could protect her unborn child.
The pointed heel struck her side.
Pain exploded through her abdomen.
Her knees hit the marble floor so hard that the sound echoed through the private hospital suite.
For one terrifying second, Khloe Thorne couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t scream.
She couldn’t even hear the crystal champagne glass shattering beside her.
All she could feel was the baby inside her.
“Please,” Khloe gasped, curling both arms around her seven-month belly. “Please stop.”
Isabella Rossi stood over her in a blood-red silk gown.
Not frightened.
Not shocked.
Satisfied.
“You should’ve listened the first time,” Isabella said.
Khloe lifted her head. Her dark hair had fallen across her face. The white maternity gown she had worn to the charity gala was wrinkled and stained.
“You’re insane.”
“No.” Isabella bent closer. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“For what?”
“For Marcus to finally realize you’re dead weight.”
Khloe’s breath trembled.
Downstairs, hundreds of guests were still drinking champagne beneath gold chandeliers, congratulating Marcus and Khloe for raising twenty million dollars for the hospital’s new children’s wing.
Up here, behind a locked door, Isabella had dropped the smile she wore for cameras.
“You think having his child makes you untouchable?” Isabella whispered. “It only makes you useful.”
Khloe pushed one hand against the floor, trying to rise.
Isabella shoved her shoulder.
Khloe fell again.
A sharp cramp tightened across her stomach.
Her face went pale.
“No…”
Isabella’s expression flickered.
“What?”
Khloe pressed both hands against her abdomen.
“The baby.”
For the first time, fear touched Isabella’s eyes.
Then the suite door flew open.
Marcus Thorne stood in the doorway, wearing the same black tuxedo he had worn at the gala. Behind him, event coordinator Elaine Parker froze with a clipboard clutched to her chest.
Marcus looked at his wife on the floor.
Then at Isabella standing above her.
Then at the broken glass.
His face hardened.
“What happened?”
Isabella changed instantly.
Her shoulders began to shake.
Tears filled her eyes.
“She attacked me.”
Khloe stared at her.
“What?”
Isabella backed away as though terrified.
“She accused me of trying to steal you, Marcus. She grabbed me, and I pushed her away because I was scared.”
“You kicked me,” Khloe said.
Isabella covered her mouth.
“She’s lying.”
Marcus took one step into the room.
Khloe looked directly into her husband’s eyes.
“Marcus, help me.”
He didn’t move.
The hesitation lasted less than two seconds.
But Khloe felt every part of it.
“Marcus,” she repeated.
His jaw tightened.
“Elaine, call a doctor.”
Elaine reached for her phone.
Isabella grabbed Marcus’s arm.
“You know I would never hurt a pregnant woman.”
Khloe’s eyes dropped to Isabella’s hand resting on her husband.
Marcus did not pull away.
Another cramp tore through Khloe’s abdomen.
She cried out.
This time, Marcus rushed forward and knelt beside her.
“Khloe?”
“Don’t touch me.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“You hesitated.”
“I was trying to understand what happened.”
“I was on the floor.”
A team of nurses hurried into the suite with a stretcher. Behind them came Dr. Adrian Hale, the hospital’s trauma director.
He stopped when he saw Khloe.
His expression went cold.
“Get her on the stretcher. Now.”
Marcus rose.
“Doctor, she fell.”
Khloe looked up at him in disbelief.
Adrian’s eyes moved from Marcus to Isabella.
“She didn’t fall.”
Isabella went still.
Adrian crouched beside Khloe and gently touched her shoulder.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
Marcus frowned.
“You know my wife?”
Adrian looked up.
“Yes.”
His voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
“She’s my niece.”
The nurses lifted Khloe onto the stretcher.
As they rushed her toward the hall, Adrian turned to the security officer standing near the elevator.
“Lock down this entire floor.”
Isabella’s face drained of color.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Why?”
Adrian looked straight at the camera mounted in the corner of the suite.
“Because whatever happened in this room was recorded.”
Isabella slowly followed his gaze.
May you like
A small red light blinked above the door.
And for the first time that night, she stopped pretending to cry.
