Chapter 3: The Envelope at the Gala
By midnight, the hospital had become a fortress.
Private security sealed the executive floor.
Police officers guarded every elevator.
Reporters gathered outside after someone leaked that a billionaire’s pregnant wife had been injured during the Thorne Foundation gala.
No official statement mentioned Isabella.
That did not stop the rumors.
Inside a private interview room, Detective Lena Ortiz placed Marcus’s access card inside an evidence bag.
“You admit this belongs to you?”
“Yes.”
“You admit giving it to Isabella Rossi?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Before or after she attacked your wife?”
“Before.”
Ortiz studied him.
“Why?”
Marcus repeated the explanation about the private archive.
She listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she opened a tablet.
“We reviewed ballroom security footage.”
A video began playing.
Khloe stood beside Marcus beneath the gala chandeliers, smiling for photographers.
Her white maternity gown curved over her stomach.
Marcus had one hand at her waist, but even without sound, the distance between them was obvious.
Khloe’s smile never reached her eyes.
The footage shifted.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus entered a service corridor.
Isabella followed.
She wore the same crimson gown from the hospital suite.
Marcus handed her a sealed black envelope.
Isabella opened it.
Inside was the keycard.
Then she touched Marcus’s face.
The moment lasted less than three seconds.
Marcus stepped back, but not quickly enough to make the image innocent.
Ortiz paused the video.
“You understand what this looks like.”
“Yes.”
“Was she your mistress?”
“No.”
“Former lover?”
Marcus looked toward the mirrored wall.
“Former fiancée.”
The detective leaned back.
“How former?”
“Eight years.”
“Does your wife know?”
“No.”
“Did Isabella want you back?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give her a private key while knowing she was obsessed with you?”
“She said she had information about the accident.”
“What accident?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
Ortiz closed the tablet.
“Mr. Thorne, your wife was nearly killed. Your daughter is in intensive care. This is no longer a reputation problem.”
“I understand.”
“No, you understand transactions. You understand leverage. I’m asking whether you understand that every secret you keep may put them in more danger.”
Marcus looked at the evidence bag.
“The night Khloe’s parents died, they were preparing to testify against my father.”
“About what?”
“Illegal clinical trials.”
Ortiz’s expression tightened.
“Human trials?”
“Yes.”
“And Isabella was involved?”
Marcus shook his head.
“She was nineteen.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Marcus raised his eyes.
“She was in the car that forced Khloe’s parents off the road.”
The door behind them opened.
May you like
Gabriel stood there.
He had heard everything.
