Chapter 3 - Poisoned Whispers
By 3:00 AM, the news of the hospital incident had leaked to the press, despite Marcus's attempts at a gag order. Media outlets were rife with speculation, fueled by quiet leaks from the Rossi family's public relations team.
Inside a private room in NYPD's 19th Precinct, Isabella Rossi sat at a steel table, her red silk gown looking absurdly out of place against the grim gray walls. Her father, Victor Rossi—a powerful, grey-haired shipping tycoon—stood near the door, speaking angrily into his phone while his top defense attorney, Richard Sterling, sat beside Isabella.
"It’s a frame job, Dad!" Isabella hissed, her hands shaking despite her manicured nails. "Khloe intentionally backed into the table to make it look like I pushed her! She’s been trying to ruin my reputation for months because she knows Marcus still has feelings for me!"
Victor hung up his phone and glared at his daughter. "Shut up, Isabella! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Marcus Thorne just pulled his entire portfolio from our logistics network! Our shares dropped fourteen percent in pre-market trading in Asia two hours ago!"
"It doesn't matter!" Isabella snapped, leaning forward. "The video is clear, but Richard can argue it was self-defense! I have bruise marks on my arms—I made sure to scratch myself before the cops arrived!"
Attorney Sterling held up a hand. "Isabella, listen to me carefully. The video footage provided by Dr. Arthur Vance is high-grade medical security surveillance. It has a verified timestamp and raw metadata. If that video hits a jury, you aren't looking at assault—you are looking at attempted murder of an unborn child and aggravated battery. That carries a minimum fifteen-year sentence."
Isabella's breath hitched. "Fifteen years?! I'm an executive! I'm a Rossi! You make this go away, Richard! Pay off the judge, buy the hospital board, buy the DA—do whatever you have to do!"
"We can't buy Marcus Thorne," Victor said coldly, slamming his hand on the table. "He’s out for blood. The only way we survive this is if we destroy Khloe's credibility before the trial. We make the public believe she was an abusive, unstable wife who forced Marcus into an arranged marriage."
Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Khloe had been moved to the Intensive Care Unit after doctors successfully halted the internal bleeding. She was conscious, but terribly weak, linked to heart monitors and intravenous drips.
Marcus sat in a chair right beside her bed, holding her hand tightly against his cheek. He hadn't slept a second. His suit was still crumpled, his hair disheveled.
Khloe opened her eyes slowly, looking at her husband. "Marcus..."
"I'm here, baby," Marcus murmured softly, kissing the back of her hand. "I'm right here."
"The baby... is he..."
"He's fighting," Marcus said, a small, rare smile appearing on his exhausted face. "Arthur said the bleeding stopped. The baby's heart rate stabilized an hour ago. You both survived the night."
Khloe let out a long, shuddering sigh, tears welling in her eyes. "She told me... Isabella told me that you planned this... that you brought her to the gala so everyone would see who you really wanted..."
Marcus felt a sharp pang of guilt pierce his heart. He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against her hand. "Khloe... I was an idiot. I let business blind me. I thought bringing the Rossis into the corporate alliance would protect our family's future. I didn't see how cruel she was being to you. I didn't protect you."
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"I thought you hated me," Khloe whispered softly. "Everyone in high society said I was just a placeholder... a quiet girl from a disgraced branch of the Vance family..."
"You are my wife," Marcus said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers with unyielding passion. "You are the only woman I have ever loved. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, Khloe. Starting today."
