Chapter 3 - The Sister Who Knew Too MuchCamille Thorne arrived at the hospital at 7:10 the next morning carrying coffee and wearing sunglasses despite the rain outside.
Then again.
Then a third time.
Each viewing seemed to make him quieter.
The camera had been positioned high in the corner of the maternity corridor, capturing almost everything except the final few feet near the private suite entrance.
There was no audio.
There didn’t need to be.
Khloe stood facing Isabella.
Khloe never raised her hand.
Never advanced.
Never touched her.
Instead, Isabella stepped forward.
Her body shifted.
Her right leg moved.
Then Khloe jerked violently sideways.
The movement was unmistakable.
Khloe staggered into the console.
Isabella stayed completely still for nearly four seconds.
Four seconds during which any innocent person would have rushed toward a seven-month-pregnant woman.
Then Isabella looked toward the elevator.
Marcus appeared in the distance.
Only then did Isabella throw herself against the wall.
Marcus stopped the recording.
His hand trembled.
“She staged it.”
Chief of Security Raymond Ellis nodded.
“That’s what the footage appears to show.”
Appears.
Marcus stared at him.
“She kicked my pregnant wife and then pretended my wife attacked her.”
Ellis chose his words carefully.
“Our legal department prefers that we don’t characterize intent before law enforcement arrives.”
Marcus looked ready to throw the tablet through the wall.
Khloe reached for his wrist.
“Marcus.”
He turned toward her.
There was something in his face she had never seen before.
Not anger.
Fear.
Because for the first time, the threats surrounding their marriage were no longer gossip, anonymous emails, or manipulative photographs.
Someone had physically attacked their unborn child.
“I should have stopped this months ago,” he said.
“You didn’t know.”
“I knew she was obsessed.”
“You didn’t know she would do this.”
“I kept telling you Isabella was harmless.”
Khloe remembered those conversations.
Isabella appearing unexpectedly at restaurants.
Isabella sending Marcus birthday gifts long after he stopped responding.
Isabella “accidentally” booking rooms at resorts owned by Thorne Global whenever Marcus traveled.
Marcus always brushed it off.
“She wants attention.”
“Don’t give it to her.”
“She’ll get bored.”
She hadn’t.
Dr. Foster returned.
“We’re seeing fewer contractions, which is good. Baby’s heart rate remains normal.”
Khloe breathed out.
Marcus bent over and kissed her forehead.
The physician continued.
“However, I want Mrs. Thorne admitted overnight.”
“She stays as long as necessary,” Marcus said.
A police detective arrived thirty minutes later.
Detective Lena Brooks was in her forties, calm, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by wealth.
She interviewed Khloe first.
Then Marcus.
Then security staff.
Isabella demanded an attorney before answering questions.
By midnight, officers escorted her from the hospital.
She wasn’t handcuffed.
Not yet.
But the video had been preserved.
Statements had been taken.
And Isabella’s expensive red heels had been collected as evidence.
Marcus watched from the doorway as she passed.
Isabella stopped.
Her eyes met his.
“Marcus.”
He said nothing.
“You know me.”
He still said nothing.
“I would never hurt your child.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“The camera says otherwise.”
Her expression changed.
Only for a second.
But Khloe saw it from the bed.
Fear.
Not fear of Marcus.
Fear of the camera.
And that frightened Khloe more than anything.
Because Isabella had known where every other camera in the building was.
She had chosen the private maternity corridor because she believed that one angle had been disconnected during renovations.
How had she known that?
Khloe waited until the door closed.
“Marcus.”
He came back to her.
“She knew about the camera.”
“What?”
“She looked at it after you arrived.”
Marcus frowned.
Khloe replayed the footage.
There.
Barely noticeable.
After staging the fall, Isabella glanced upward.
Directly at the camera.
Her face changed.
Marcus leaned closer.
“She didn’t expect it to be working.”
Exactly.
The hospital’s security chief was called back.
Ellis reviewed the footage.
Then frowned.
“That camera was scheduled for replacement this week.”
“Was it supposed to be offline?” Marcus asked.
“It was.”
Khloe’s skin prickled.
“Then why wasn’t it?”
Ellis hesitated.
“Maintenance got delayed.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
A coincidence.
One tiny scheduling delay had caught an attempted deception.
“What else did Isabella know about this hospital?” Khloe asked.
Ellis stiffened.
“I can’t discuss patient information.”
“I’m not asking about patients.”
Khloe looked at him.
“I’m asking how a woman who doesn’t work here knew a specific security camera was supposed to be disconnected.”
Ellis said nothing.
Marcus understood immediately.
“Someone told her.”
The chief security officer didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Marcus stepped into the corridor and called his private security director.
“David.”
A sleepy voice answered.
“Marcus?”
“I need everything you can legally find on Isabella Rossi from the last six months. Phone records we already have access to through company communications. Building visits. Employees she contacted. Anyone connected to St. Augustine.”
Khloe listened.
Marcus added, “And audit every Thorne employee with access to my schedule.”
He hung up.
“You think someone helped her?” Khloe asked.
“I think Isabella knew where we were tonight.”
“The charity gala was public.”
“The hospital visit wasn’t.”
Khloe froze.
He was right.
They had come upstairs privately because Khloe had experienced mild dizziness during the gala.
Only six people knew.
Marcus.
Khloe.
Their driver.
Marcus’s assistant.
The gala physician.
And Marcus’s mother, Evelyn.
Khloe stared at him.
Marcus saw the thought cross her face.
“No.”
She said nothing.
“My mother wouldn’t—”
His phone rang.
David.
Marcus answered immediately.
“Already?”
David’s voice came through sharply enough for Khloe to hear.
“You need to look at something.”
“What?”
“I pulled the access logs from your executive calendar.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Someone opened tonight’s private schedule thirteen times.”
“Who?”
A pause.
“Your sister.”
Marcus went completely still.
Khloe whispered, “Camille?”
David continued.
“And Marcus… Isabella called Camille six times today.”
Khloe felt cold.
Marcus slowly lowered the phone.
For months, Isabella had insisted Marcus’s family secretly hated Khloe.
May you like
Khloe had believed it was another lie.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
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