Chapter 3 - The Price of Silence
Three days later, Khloe woke up. She didn't look at Marcus. She looked at the window, the harsh morning light stinging her eyes.
"Where is she?" she asked, her voice raspy.
"She’s gone, Khloe," Marcus said, sitting close to the bed, his hand hovering over hers. "She will never touch you again. She’s being held at a facility. The police have been silenced, the footage is locked in my vault. She will face justice, but on my terms, not the public’s."
Khloe turned her head to look at him. "You’re silencing the police? You’re making this disappear? That’s all you know how to do, Marcus. You think everything is a negotiation."
"I am protecting you," he argued, his chest tight.
"You are protecting your reputation," she corrected, her voice brittle. "You didn't care about what she did to me until you saw it on a screen. You were involved with her, Marcus. Don't think I don't know that. You thought she was a game. You thought I was just a part of the Thorne portfolio. I’m not a contract, Marcus. I’m a human being."
She reached down, pulling her hand away from his touch. "I want a divorce."
Marcus felt the air leave his lungs. He had expected anger, but this—the utter, absolute detachment—was worse.
"Khloe, you’re in shock. We can talk about this when you’re out of the hospital."
"I am talking about it now. I want the baby, and I want the Thorne name stripped from me. I want to go back to Scranton. I want to be where no one knows who you are."
"I won't let you," he said, his voice regaining that familiar, dangerous edge of control. "You are my wife. My son is a Thorne. I will not let you take him away from this, from the resources I provide."
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"Resources?" she laughed, a dry, painful sound. "The resources that almost killed me? The resources that invited a woman like Isabella into our home? You’re a billionaire, Marcus. You’ve got everything, and yet, you’ve got absolutely nothing of value."
She turned her back to him, closing her eyes. It was the most final thing she had ever done. Marcus stood up, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He walked out of the room, his mind racing. He had won every battle he’d ever fought, but as he stood in the sterile hallway, he realized he didn't know how to win this one. Because to win this one, he would have to admit that he had lost the only thing that had ever made his life real.
