Chapter 1 - The Crimson Suite

The private suite on the seventeenth floor of St. Gabriel Medical Center had been designed to look less like a hospital room than a luxury apartment. Pale marble, a glass wall facing Manhattan, fresh orchids, champagne from the charity gala downstairs, and a chandelier that cast soft gold across the polished floor.

Khloe Thorne barely noticed any of it.

At seven months pregnant, she wanted ten minutes without cameras, donors, or strangers touching her arm and asking whether the baby would be "another Thorne heir."

She pressed one hand to the curve of her stomach and exhaled.

"Just ten minutes," she murmured.

Elaine Parker, the gala coordinator, stood near the door with a clipboard tucked to her chest.

"I can give you fifteen."

"You're a saint."

"I'm a woman who has watched you smile at three hundred people while your feet are swelling inside shoes that should qualify as weapons."

Khloe laughed despite herself.

"Marcus chose them."

"Then Marcus owes you an apology."

"He owes me several."

Elaine's smile faded when she glanced toward the hallway.

"Isabella Rossi is still downstairs."

Khloe's shoulders tightened.

"I know."

"She asked where you went."

"Of course she did."

"I told her you were speaking privately with a doctor."

"That should keep her away."

"It should."

Khloe studied Elaine's face.

"But you don't think it will."

Elaine hesitated.

"No."

Khloe turned toward the window.

For six weeks, Isabella had occupied the edge of every photograph, every dinner, every board event. She was the daughter of one of Marcus's oldest business allies, a glamorous socialite who had known him since college and who behaved as if marriage were merely a clerical error that could be corrected.

Khloe had tolerated the smiles.

She had tolerated the whispered jokes.

She had even tolerated the gossip sites suggesting Marcus had "reconnected" with Isabella after his marriage became strained.

What she had not tolerated was the way Marcus refused to confront the rumors.

"He says ignoring her is better," Khloe said.

Elaine blinked.

"Marcus?"

"Yes."

"With respect, that's nonsense."

"Thank you."

"Want me to tell him?"

"Every day."

A knock sounded.

Elaine checked the time.

"That may be Dr. Reed."

"Send him in."

Elaine opened the door.

Isabella Rossi stood there in a crimson silk gown.

Elaine stiffened.

"I'm sorry. Mrs. Thorne isn't receiving guests."

Isabella smiled.

"I'm not a guest."

"Then you're definitely not coming in."

"Elaine."

Khloe's voice was quiet.

"Give us a minute."

Elaine looked at her.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

That made Elaine stop.

Khloe met her eyes.

"But if she came all the way up here, she's going to find another way. Stay outside."

"I'll be ten feet away."

"Good."

Elaine left reluctantly.

Isabella stepped inside and closed the door.

The smile disappeared.

"You look tired."

"So do you."

"I'm not the pregnant one."

"No. You're just the one obsessed with my husband."

Isabella's jaw tightened.

"Marcus and I had a life before you."

"Everyone has a life before marriage."

"He was supposed to come back."

Khloe stared at her.

"Back to what?"

"To me."

"You were never together."

"That's what he told you?"

"That's what he told everyone."

Isabella walked closer.

"You're very confident for someone who doesn't know the whole story."

Khloe kept her voice level.

"If you have something to say, say it."

Isabella's gaze dropped to Khloe's stomach.

"You were supposed to know your place."

Khloe's expression changed.

"What did you say?"

"Smile for the cameras. Give him an heir. Then disappear."

Khloe instinctively covered her stomach.

"Leave."

Isabella did not move.

"I've waited too long."

"For what?"

"For him to remember who belongs beside him."

"Marcus isn't property."

"No. But Thorne Capital is."

Khloe stared at her.

That was different.

Not jealousy.

Money.

"Now I understand."

"You understand nothing."

"I understand why you keep appearing at board events."

Isabella stepped closer.

"I understand why you keep poisoning every room you enter."

"Careful."

"Or what?"

Isabella's hands slammed into Khloe's chest.

Khloe stumbled backward.

Her spine struck the sharp edge of the marble table.

Pain tore through her lower back.

She gasped.

"Are you insane?"

Isabella's face was rigid.

"You should have left when the rumors started."

Khloe grabbed the edge of the table.

"Get away from me."

A crystal champagne glass fell.

It shattered.

Isabella advanced again.

Khloe reached for the call button near the bedside console.

Isabella saw it.

"No."

Her stiletto heel struck Khloe's side.

Khloe crashed to the floor.

For one second, there was no sound.

Then pain surged through her abdomen.

She curled around her belly.

"No," she whispered.

The baby moved.

Once.

Hard.

Khloe squeezed her eyes shut.

"Please."

Isabella stood over her, breathing fast.

Then the door flew open.

Marcus Thorne froze in the doorway.

Elaine stood behind him.

Khloe saw his black tuxedo, his pale face, and the exact moment his mind registered the shattered glass and Isabella standing above her.

"Khloe?"

He crossed the room.

Isabella moved first.

"She attacked me."

Marcus stopped.

Khloe lifted her head.

"What?"

Isabella's eyes filled with tears so quickly it looked rehearsed.

"She called me up here. She said she'd ruin my family. She pushed me, and I defended myself."

Elaine looked at the broken glass.

"Isabella—"

"Don't."

Isabella pointed at Khloe.

"Ask her why she threatened me."

Marcus knelt beside his wife.

"Khloe, look at me."

"My stomach."

His face changed.

"Is the baby moving?"

"Yes. I think."

He reached for his phone.

Isabella grabbed his wrist.

"Marcus, listen to me."

He looked down at her hand.

"Take your hand off me."

She released him.

A nurse rushed in, followed by two orderlies.

"Mrs. Thorne?"

"I'm pregnant. Seven months. She kicked me."

Isabella shook her head.

"She fell."

Khloe looked directly at Marcus.

"She kicked me."

Marcus stood.

For the first time, Isabella's confidence flickered.

"Marcus—"

"Not one word."

The nurse helped Khloe onto a rolling bed.

"We're taking her to fetal monitoring."

"I'm coming."

The nurse nodded.

Elaine remained near the doorway.

"There's a camera."

Everyone turned.

She pointed toward the small black dome near the corner of the ceiling.

Isabella went white.

Marcus stared at it.

"That suite is recorded?"

Elaine swallowed.

"The hospital added cameras to the VIP wing after the senator incident last year. Security has them."

Isabella took a step back.

"You can't record private patients without consent."

A new voice came from the hallway.

"Actually, you can record common areas and designated security zones when notice is posted."

A tall man in a dark physician's coat entered at a near run.

His silver hair was disordered. His expression was controlled, but his eyes were not.

Khloe stared.

"Uncle Daniel."

Dr. Daniel Vale crossed directly to her.

He was not simply an attending physician.

He was the chairman of St. Gabriel's medical board.

More importantly, he had raised Khloe after her parents died.

He looked at the nurse.

"Trauma protocol. Obstetrics, imaging, continuous fetal monitor, blood work."

"Already moving."

Daniel turned to Marcus.

"What happened?"

Marcus's throat tightened.

"I walked in after it happened."

Daniel's eyes shifted to Isabella.

"What happened?"

"She attacked me."

Daniel stared at her for three long seconds.

Then he looked toward the camera.

"No one leaves this floor."

Isabella laughed nervously.

"You can't detain me."

"I can preserve evidence after an assault inside my hospital."

"It wasn't an assault."

Khloe gripped Daniel's sleeve.

"Uncle."

He bent toward her.

"Don't fight right now. Let us do the work."

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"The baby—"

"We're checking."

Marcus walked beside the bed as the nurses rolled her toward the hall.

Khloe looked at him.

He reached for her hand.

She hesitated before taking it.

That hesitation hurt him more than he expected.

"Khloe."

"Not now."

"I didn't believe her."

"You paused."

"I was trying to understand."

"You paused."

The elevator doors opened.

The bed disappeared inside with Daniel and the nurses.

Marcus remained in the hall.

Elaine watched him.

"You need to see the footage."

"I know."

"And you need to understand something before you do."

He turned.

"What?"

"Isabella didn't come upstairs because she was emotional."

"How do you know?"

"Because she asked security two days ago whether the VIP suite cameras record audio."

Marcus's expression hardened.

"Why would she ask that?"

Elaine swallowed.

"I thought she was worried about donor privacy."

"Now?"

"Now I think she wanted to know exactly what she could get away with."

Marcus looked toward Isabella.

Two security officers had arrived. She stood between them, furious but suddenly silent.

He walked toward her.

"You asked about the cameras?"

"I ask about privacy everywhere."

"Two days ago."

"So?"

"Why?"

She lifted her chin.

"Because I have nothing to hide."

"Good."

His voice was quiet.

"Then you'll have no problem watching the recording with me."

For the first time, fear showed openly on her face.

Marcus saw it.

And he understood that whatever had happened in the suite was not a spontaneous explosion.

It had a plan behind it.

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The question was whether the plan ended with Khloe on the floor.

Or whether that was only the beginning.