The kick landed before anyone in that hospital suite could convince themselves it was just another argument.

Marcus Thorne did not move for three full seconds.

The charity gala continued eleven floors below them, its distant music drifting through the hospital suite’s half-open door. Inside, crystal glittered across the marble floor. Khloe lay curled beside the overturned table, one arm around her stomach and the other pressed against the floor to keep herself upright.

Isabella Rossi stood several feet away, breathing hard.

Then her expression changed.

The anger vanished so quickly it was frightening. Her shoulders began to tremble. Tears filled her eyes. She stepped backward as though she were the one in danger.

“She attacked me,” Isabella whispered.

Marcus finally moved.

But he did not rush to Isabella.

He crossed the room and dropped beside his wife.

“Khloe?”

She tried to answer, but the pain stole her voice. Marcus reached toward her, then hesitated, terrified that touching her might make things worse.

“Call a doctor!” he shouted into the hallway. “Now!”

Two nurses ran into the suite. One knelt beside Khloe while the other pressed an emergency button near the bed.

Isabella covered her mouth.

“She lost control,” she said, her voice shaking with practiced fear. “She accused me of trying to steal you. She pushed me, Marcus. I was defending myself.”

Khloe looked up at her husband.

She expected outrage.

She expected him to call Isabella a liar.

Instead, Marcus stared between the two women with confusion written across his face.

That hesitation hurt almost as much as the kick.

“You believe her?” Khloe whispered.

“No,” Marcus said quickly. “I just—I didn’t see what happened.”

Isabella seized the opening.

“Of course she’ll blame me. She’s been unstable for months.”

Khloe’s face went pale.

The nurses lifted her carefully onto a stretcher. A doctor entered, followed by another medical team.

“We need to evaluate the baby immediately,” the doctor said.

Marcus started after them, but a large man in a dark suit appeared in the doorway.

Dr. Elias Bennett was the hospital’s chief administrator. He was known for his calm manner, his strict standards, and his refusal to tolerate anyone who endangered a patient inside his building.

Tonight, calm had disappeared from his face.

He looked at Khloe on the stretcher.

Then he looked at Isabella.

“Seal this floor,” he ordered.

A security officer immediately spoke into his radio.

Isabella’s lips parted.

“You can’t detain me.”

Dr. Bennett stepped into the suite.

“I can secure my hospital after an assault.”

Marcus frowned. “You know Khloe?”

Elias turned toward him.

“She’s my niece.”

The words changed the air in the room.

Khloe closed her eyes as the stretcher rolled toward the examination wing.

She had not spoken to her uncle in nearly five years. Not since a family conflict had divided them. Not since she had married Marcus against Elias’s advice.

But when Elias saw the fear on her face, none of those years mattered.

He walked beside the stretcher and took her hand.

“You’re not alone,” he said.

Behind them, Isabella quietly reached for her phone.

A security officer stopped her.

“Please place it on the table.”

Her tears disappeared again.