Chapter 3 - The Sterile War
The double doors of the VIP suite burst open as Dr. Evelyn West, the head of fetal surgery at Thorne Medical, rushed in with a team of six nurses and an emergency ultrasound machine. The room instantly transformed from a scene of domestic horror into a high-stakes trauma bay.
"Get her on her left side immediately!" Dr. West ordered, ignoring Marcus’s wealth and Isabella’s status completely. "Prep for an emergency Cesarean section. We have active abdominal bleeding. Marcus, step back."
"I’m staying," Marcus said, his voice unyielding as he held Khloe’s hand. Her fingers were freezing, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird against his palm.
"Then don't get in our way," Dr. West snapped, squirming gel onto Khloe’s exposed, swollen stomach. The red welt from Isabella’s heel was already turning into a terrifying, deep purple hematoma right over the uterine wall.
Isabella tried to slip out through the back service exit, but the moment she opened the door, she ran into a wall of solid muscle. Lucas, Marcus’s chief of security, stood there in a tactical vest, two uniform police officers right behind him.
"Miss Rossi," Lucas said, his face expressionless. "You are not permitted to leave the premises. The Dallas Police Department has a few questions regarding an active assault."
"Get your hands off me!" Isabella shrieked, her high-society composure completely evaporating. "Do you know who my father is? He will have your badges by morning!"
"Your father doesn't own the state of Texas, Isabella," Marcus said, his eyes never leaving the ultrasound screen as Dr. West moved the transducer over Khloe's belly.
The room grew deadly quiet as the machine searched for a sound. For ten agonizing seconds, the only noise was the hum of the air conditioner and the wet slide of the plastic wand. Then, a faint, erratic sound filled the speakers.
Thump... thump....... thump.
"Fetal bradycardia," Dr. West muttered, her face hardening. "The baby’s heart rate is dropping fast. The impact caused a partial placental abruption. He’s losing oxygen, Marcus. We have to take him out now, or we lose them both."
Khloe let out a broken, agonizing sob, her eyes locked onto Marcus’s. "Save him, Marcus. Don't worry about me. Save our son."
"I’m saving both of you," Marcus swore, leaning down to press his lips against her sweaty forehead. He looked up at Dr. West. "Do what you have to do."
As the nurses wheeled Khloe’s bed out into the private surgical corridor, Marcus stood up and turned his full attention to Isabella, who was currently being cuffed by the police officers near the door.
"Marcus, you can't let them do this," Isabella pleaded, her voice cracking as the cold steel clicked around her wrists. "Think of the business. Think of your mother! She approved of everything I did! She told me to get rid of her!"
Marcus stopped in his tracks. The air in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees. "What did you just say?"
Isabella realized too late that she had let her tongue slip in her panic. She tried to bite her lip, but the damage was done.
"Lucas," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register. "Take Miss Rossi to the precinct. Ensure she is booked under the highest possible bail, with no access to outside communication until my legal team arrives."
"Understood, sir," Lucas replied, dragging a screaming, cursing Isabella down the service elevator.
Marcus stood alone in the sterile hallway, his hands covered in his wife’s blood and the residue of broken champagne. He pulled out his phone, dialed a number he hadn't called willingly in years, and waited for the line to pick up.
May you like
On the third ring, a sharp, elegant voice answered. "Marcus, darling? Is the gala over? Did we secure the Rossi signature?"
"Mother," Marcus said, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "I hope you haven't gone to sleep yet. Because by morning, everything you’ve ever built is going to be reduced to ash."
