Chapter 2 - The Footage In Suite 402
The security monitors inside the hospital’s central control room flickered with high-definition, cold clarity.
Khloe Thorne sat in a wheelchair, her trembling hands wrapped around a paper cup of warm water, her seven-month pregnant body aching.
Beside her stood her uncle, Dr. Arthur Vance, the Chief of Surgery and Chairman of the hospital’s board of directors.
Marcus Thorne stood three feet away, his black tuxedo unbuttoned, his face completely drained of color as the video played.
Isabella Rossi was pinned against the wall by two hospital security guards, her crimson designer gown wrinkled and stained with spilled champagne.
On the 4K monitor, the truth was unspooling in cruel, irrefutable detail.
Isabella’s calculated push, the sickening crash of Khloe’s back against the marble table, and the vicious kick directly to Khloe’s side.
Every single second of the brutal assault had been recorded from three separate wide-angle ceiling cameras.
“You said she attacked you, Isabella,” Dr. Vance said, his voice dropping into a deep, lethal register that resonated through the room.
Isabella swallowed hard, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as her fake tears instantly evaporated.
“Marcus, please!” Isabella shrieked, looking desperately at the billionaire hedge fund manager. “You know why I did it! Tell them!”
Marcus didn't look at her; his eyes remained glued to the screen, but his expression wasn't one of shock or horror at Isabella’s cruelty.
It was an expression of pure, icy calculation.
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He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a encrypted smartphone, and slowly tapped the screen twice.
“Delete the last ten minutes of that security log, Arthur,” Marcus said calmly, turning his gaze toward Khloe’s uncle.
