The hospital suite remained frozen in silence. Marcus Thorne didn’t move at first. Not because he didn’t understand what he was seeing—but because his mind refused to accept it.
CHAPTER 1: THE FOOTAGE THAT COULD NOT BE ERASED
The hospital suite remained frozen in silence.
Marcus Thorne didn’t move at first.
Not because he didn’t understand what he was seeing—but because his mind refused to accept it.
Khloe lay on the marble floor, curled protectively around her abdomen, her breathing shallow and uneven. A thin line of blood had begun to stain the white fabric beneath her.
Isabella still stood in the center of the room, trembling now—not from guilt, but from calculation.
“I didn’t touch her,” she whispered again, louder this time. “She fell. She—she attacked me first.”
Elaine Parker, the event coordinator, looked between them in panic, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone.
Marcus finally stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
“Stop talking,” he said quietly.
Not to Khloe.
Not to Isabella.
To the room itself.
The hospital door opened again.
A man in a dark coat walked in—calm, controlled, unreadable.
Khloe’s uncle.
Behind him, two security officers and a medical technician.
“I assume I’m not too late,” he said.
His eyes moved to Khloe.
Then to the shattered glass.
Then to the security camera in the corner.
A faint red light blinked.
Recording.
His expression didn’t change.
“Good,” he said softly. “Then we have everything.”
Isabella’s face tightened for the first time.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The uncle raised his phone.
A live feed from the hospital security system.
Paused at the exact moment she lifted her heel.
“You just assaulted the daughter of the Carter family,” he said. “In a secured medical suite. Under full surveillance.”
The color drained from Isabella’s face.
May you like
Marcus turned slowly toward her.
And for the first time that night, he looked at her like a stranger.
