Chapter 9 - The Theatrical Blood
Marcus lowered his weapon, his mind spinning in absolute, paralyzing confusion.
"Natalie..." Marcus breathed, stepping forward, his eyes darting to her stomach. "The blood... the bathtub... I thought you lost the baby."
Natalie let out a soft, dark laugh. She gently placed her teacup on the glass table and rested her hands protectively over her small, very visible baby bump.
"I didn't lose anything, Marcus," Natalie stated, her voice laced with unbreakable cinematic power. "Our baby is perfectly fine. The blood in the bathtub? It was pig’s blood. I bought three gallons of it from a high-end butcher in the meatpacking district."
Marcus stopped breathing. The blood in his veins turned to absolute ice.
"You faked it," Marcus whispered, the sheer, terrifying brilliance of her plan crashing over him.
"I needed a distraction," Natalie explained smoothly. "I knew that if I just left, you would track me down immediately. You would use your money and your syndicate to hunt me like an animal. But I also knew your ego. I knew that if I made you believe you had killed your own heir through your neglect, the guilt would paralyze you. I needed a twelve-hour head start to clear the bank accounts and get out of the country."
Marcus stumbled backward. She hadn't just escaped. She had psychologically dismantled him. She had played him like a grandmaster in a game of chess.
"You are a monster," Marcus choked out, a tear falling down his cheek.
"No," Natalie corrected him coldly. "I am a mother protecting her child from a monster."
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Marcus hardened his jaw, raising his gun again. "It doesn't matter. The game is over. You are coming back to New York with me."
👉 What absolute, brutal justice is waiting for Marcus on the balcony?
