Chapter 1
Khloe Thorne had spent seven months protecting a child she hadn't even met yet.
Every meal.
Every doctor's appointment.
Every sleepless night.
Everything revolved around the tiny heartbeat growing inside her.
At twenty-nine, she was about to become a mother.
Marcus Thorne, her thirty-five-year-old husband, had spent years building one of Chicago's largest investment firms, but none of his accomplishments compared to hearing their baby's heartbeat for the first time.
They had tried for three years to have a child.
Two miscarriages had nearly destroyed them.
The third pregnancy felt like a miracle they refused to take for granted.
Which was why Dr. Michael Carter, Khloe's uncle and one of Chicago's most respected maternal-fetal specialists, insisted she spend the final trimester under close observation at the elite Lakeshore Women's Medical Center.
"It isn't because something is wrong," he reminded them.
"It's because this baby is too precious to risk."
Marcus agreed immediately.
Money meant nothing compared to keeping his wife and child safe.
The luxury maternity suite looked more like a five-star hotel than a hospital.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering Chicago skyline.
Crystal chandeliers reflected across polished marble floors.
Private nurses rotated every few hours.
Security cameras monitored every hallway.
Marcus believed there was no safer place in the city.
He was wrong.
Because danger didn't come from outside.
It walked through the front door wearing a crimson designer gown.
Isabella Rossi.
She had once imagined becoming Mrs. Marcus Thorne.
Years earlier they had dated briefly.
Marcus ended the relationship after realizing Isabella loved his lifestyle far more than she loved him.
Months later he met Khloe.
Within a year they were married.
Isabella never accepted it.
She smiled in public.
Sent polite congratulations.
Even mailed expensive baby gifts after learning Khloe was pregnant.
Everyone thought she had moved on.
Only Khloe noticed the way Isabella stared at her during charity galas.
The forced smiles.
The compliments that somehow sounded like insults.
The way her eyes always lingered on Khloe's wedding ring... and then on her growing stomach.
Jealousy rarely announces itself.
It waits.
Patiently.
Looking for one moment when nobody else is watching.
That opportunity arrived during the hospital's annual children's charity fundraiser.
Because the medical center remained operational, several private maternity suites—including Khloe's—were temporarily opened for VIP donors to rest between events.
Marcus had stepped downstairs to greet investors.
Dr. Carter had been called into emergency surgery.
The assigned nurse was helping another patient.
For less than ten minutes...
Khloe was alone.
She stood near the panoramic window, one hand resting beneath her belly as she watched snow drift over downtown Chicago.
The baby kicked gently.
She smiled.
"You're awake tonight."
Another tiny kick answered.
She laughed softly.
"I know."
"Daddy talks too much."
A knock interrupted the moment.
Khloe assumed Marcus had forgotten something.
Instead...
Isabella entered carrying a crystal champagne flute.
She closed the suite door behind her.
Without asking permission.
"Beautiful room."
She looked around slowly.
"I can see why Marcus insisted on the best."
Khloe remained polite.
"It's good to see you."
"Is it?"
Isabella smiled.
"I've always wondered whether you actually mean that."
Khloe ignored the remark.
"Would you like me to call someone?"
"No."
"I won't stay long."
She walked farther into the room.
Her black stiletto heels clicked sharply across the marble floor.
"I only wanted to congratulate you."
"For what?"
"Winning."
Khloe frowned.
"I'm sorry?"
"You won Marcus."
Isabella's smile remained perfectly composed.
"You won his family."
"You won his future."
She looked directly at Khloe's stomach.
"And apparently..."
"...you won his baby too."
The room suddenly felt colder.
Khloe instinctively rested both hands over her abdomen.
"Marcus chose his own life."
"I didn't take anything from you."
Isabella laughed.
"That's adorable."
"You actually believe that."
She took another step closer.
"You know..."
"I picked out engagement rings before he ever met you."
"I knew what our house would've looked like."
"I knew what our children would've been named."
Khloe felt her heartbeat quicken.
"This conversation is over."
She reached toward the bedside phone.
Before her fingers touched it...
Isabella quietly moved between Khloe and the table.
"I've imagined this moment for years."
Her voice lost every trace of friendliness.
"No cameras inside the suite."
"No witnesses."
"No Marcus."
"No doctor."
"Just us."
Khloe's pulse hammered inside her ears.
She realized this woman hadn't come to talk.
She had come with a plan.
"Move."
Khloe said firmly.
"I'm calling security."
Instead of moving...
Isabella smiled.
The smile wasn't angry.
It was calm.
Which somehow made it terrifying.
"You should've known your place."
Before Khloe could react...
Two hands slammed violently against her shoulders.
Her body stumbled backward.
The sharp edge of the marble side table struck her lower back with sickening force.
Pain exploded through her abdomen.
The crystal champagne flute slipped from Isabella's hand, sliding across the polished floor.
Khloe instinctively wrapped both arms around her stomach.
Her baby.
Protect the baby.
Nothing else mattered.
She tried to steady herself.
She barely remained standing.
Then Isabella stepped forward again.
This time there was no hesitation.
The pointed heel of her black stiletto drove hard into Khloe's side.
Agonizing pain tore through her body.
"My baby!"
Khloe cried as she collapsed onto the marble floor.
The champagne flute shattered beside her.
Hundreds of glittering shards scattered across the white stone.
For one horrifying second...
Everything became silent.
Then...
Warm liquid spread beneath her gown.
Khloe looked down.
Her hands began to shake.
"No..."
"No..."
Not again.
Please...
Not this baby.
Outside the suite...
Footsteps were running toward the door.
Someone had heard her scream.
The handle turned violently.
And the door burst open.
Marcus stood frozen in the doorway.
His eyes found his wife lying among broken glass.
Then they found the crimson dress standing over her.
His face changed instantly.
May you like
From confusion...
To absolute fury.
