"My husband opened my private hospital-room door—and caught Isabella standing over me with one red heel pressed against my body while I lay on the marble floor protecting my seven-month pregnant belly.

The silence inside private suite 408 of St. Jude Medical Center was terrifying.

Isabella’s red-bottomed heel was still glistening with a faint smudge of blood—my blood—where she had pressed it into my ribcage while I lay pinned against the cold marble floor. Her cheek was burning red from the force of Marcus’s slap, but she didn't touch her face. She couldn't. Her entire body was locked in absolute, paralyzing terror, her eyes pinned to the small black dome mounted in the corner of the ceiling crown molding.

A single red LED was flashing every two seconds. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Marcus was down on his knees beside me, his hands trembling as he lifted my head and supported my shoulders. "Khloe! Baby, look at me. Talk to me! Where does it hurt?"

"My... my stomach," I choked out, my teeth clicking together as a cold sweat covered my skin. My hands were still wrapped tightly around my seven-month pregnant belly, protective, trembling, shielding my unborn baby girl from the monster who had just tried to stomp the life out of us. "The baby... Marcus, please... check the baby..."

"Help! Somebody call a doctor!" Marcus roared, his voice echoing out into the quiet corridor.

Outside in the hallway, heavy footsteps pounded against the linoleum. Dr. Aris Thorne, my lead obstetrician, burst into the room alongside two senior nurses pushing a mobile ultrasound unit and an emergency stretcher.

"What happened here?!" Dr. Thorne demanded, taking one look at me on the floor and instantly dropping to his knees. "Khloe! Stay still. Don't move your hips."

While the nurses gently moved me onto the stretcher, Isabella took two slow, cautious steps backward toward the open balcony door. Her mind was racing, her fake tears completely forgotten, replaced by the feral panic of a predator that had just realized it was trapped in a room full of hunters.

She knew what that camera in the corner had recorded.

Marcus hadn't seen the camera yet. He was too consumed by guilt and terror, holding my left hand so tightly his knuckles were white as the medical team hooked me up to heart monitors and fetal dopplers.

"Isabella," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a low, murderous register without him even looking up at her. "You stand right there. If you take one step out of this room, I will have security break both of your legs."

Isabella froze, her hand hovering over her designer handbag. "Marcus... darling, please. You're upset. You're not thinking clearly. She... Khloe staged this! She attacked me first! She tried to push me, and when I tripped, my shoe accidentally—"

"Shut up," Dr. Thorne snapped, adjusting the ultrasound transducer over my bare stomach.

The room went dead silent save for the rhythmic, electronic beep of my heart monitor. Then, after three agonizing seconds that felt like three centuries, a fast, drum-like sound filled the room.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

A strong, steady fetal heartbeat.

Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and blinding, as I let out a ragged breath. "She's alive... Marcus, she's breathing..."

"She's alive, Khloe," Marcus wept, pressing his forehead against my back of my hand, his shoulders shaking with uncharacteristic sobs. "Our daughter is alive."

Dr. Thorne’s eyes remained fixed on the digital screen, his eyebrows knitted together in deep concern. "The baby's heart rate is stable for now, but there's a partial placental abruption caused by blunt abdominal trauma. Khloe has severe bruising across her upper abdomen and lower ribs. We need to transfer her to the High-Risk ICU immediately."

As the nurses began wheeling my stretcher toward the door, Marcus stood up. He turned slowly toward Isabella, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, lethal intent that made even the medical staff step back.

"Why were you in this room, Isabella?" Marcus asked, stepping into her space until he towered over her. "You were supposed to be at the corporate headquarters signing the severance agreement."

Isabella’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted frantically back up to the corner of the ceiling.

Marcus followed her line of sight.

His gaze locked onto the small black dome and its steady, blinking red light.

"What is that?" Marcus asked, his tone dropping into an icy whisper.

"It's... it's just a fire sensor, Marcus!" Isabella panicked, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "It's nothing! Let's go down to the coffee shop and talk about this privately—"

Marcus pulled his arm away with such force she stumbled back against the examination table. He walked over to the wall near the door, where a small digital control panel sat behind a locked glass casing. He pulled a heavy brass key from his pocket—the master key given only to executive donors of the hospital—and unlocked the box.

Inside was a high-speed micro-SD card reader hooked to a live closed-circuit feed.