Chapter 3
That was why the camera was active.
That was why Elliot stayed upstairs instead of joining the gala.
That was why, when Khloe left the ballroom early and Isabella followed three minutes later, Elliot checked the feed.
He saw Isabella enter the suite.
He saw the block at the door.
He saw Khloe step back.
Then he ran.
Marcus ran too, because Elliot called him with only four words.
“Go upstairs now.”
Now Marcus stood in the suite, staring at the woman he had defended.
Isabella looked small under the hospital lights.
Not innocent.
Exposed.
“Marcus,” she whispered. “It’s not what it looked like.”
Khloe made a sound from the floor.
Not a laugh.
Not a sob.
Something bitter and broken.
Marcus flinched.
Elliot stepped toward Khloe.
“Do not move too fast. Let the nurse check you.”
Security called the medical team immediately.
A nurse entered within seconds, kneeling beside Khloe, checking her breathing, her side, the baby’s movement.
Marcus tried to come closer.
Khloe lifted one trembling hand.
“Not yet.”
That stopped him harder than any shove could have.
Not yet.
Two words.
A boundary.
A wound.
A sentence he had earned.
His eyes filled.
“Khloe…”
She looked away.
Elliot turned to Isabella.
“Security will escort you to the administrative office.”
Isabella’s fear sharpened.
“No. I’m not going anywhere with them.”
Elliot’s face did not change.
“This is a hospital. You assaulted a pregnant patient in a private suite under active surveillance.”
“She’s not a patient. She was hiding up here.”
The nurse looked up.
“She is under observation, and you need to step back.”
Isabella’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Marcus stared at her like he had never seen her before.
But he had.
That was the worst part.
He had seen enough.
He simply had not wanted to understand it.
Medical staff moved Khloe to the bed carefully.
The fetal monitor was adjusted around her stomach.
The room held its breath until the heartbeat came through.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
Khloe closed her eyes.
Tears slid down her temples into her hair.
Marcus covered his mouth with one hand and turned away, shoulders shaking once.
Elliot watched him.
Not with pity.
With judgment.
“You need to decide what kind of man you are before you speak to her again.”
Marcus nodded because he could not trust his voice.
Downstairs, the gala did not know yet.
The music still played.
Donors still praised the foundation.
Champagne still moved through the ballroom.
But upstairs, the real story had already changed.
Isabella was taken out through the private corridor.
She tried one more time to cry.
Security did not react.
May you like
That was when she stopped.
Performers need an audience.
