Chapter 3: What the Camera Saw
The video lasted forty-seven seconds.
Marcus watched every one of them without blinking.
The timestamp in the corner read 9:41 PM.
The suite.
The chandelier.
The marble table.
All of it captured from the camera mounted above the door — the one Isabella had never thought to look for.
The footage showed Khloe entering first, alone.
Then Isabella following.
Then the door closing.
Then everything.
Marcus set the phone down on the side table.
His hand stayed on it for a moment, flat against the screen.
"Marcus." Isabella's voice came from behind him, softer now, recalibrated.
"You know how these things can look.
Camera angles distort —"
"Stop." He didn't turn around.
"I'm telling you, she said things to me.
Terrible things.
About you.
About us.
I lost my composure for a moment, that's all.
Anyone would have —"
"I said stop."
The room went quiet.
Khloe's uncle — Daniel Reeves — crouched beside Khloe on the floor.
He had his jacket off and folded beneath her head.
His other hand was already on his phone, speaking quietly to someone on the other end.
"Yes.
Seven months.
Possible abdominal trauma.
We need a team up here now."
Khloe reached for his sleeve.
"The baby —"
"Is going to be fine," Daniel said.
He looked at her directly.
"I'm right here."
Marcus finally turned around.
Isabella was standing near the window, arms crossed, chin still lifted.
But the crimson gown that had looked like power an hour ago looked different now.
Her mascara had tracked two thin lines down her left cheek.
Her breathing was uneven.
"How long?" Marcus asked.
"I don't know what you mean."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Marcus, I wasn't planning anything.
I came upstairs because I needed air.
Khloe followed me.
She was the one who —"
"The footage shows you following her."
Isabella's jaw tightened.
"That camera is a hotel camera.
Your lawyers can challenge the chain of custody.
The timestamp could be —"
"Isabella." His voice dropped.
"I watched you kick my pregnant wife."
The word landed in the room like something physical.
Isabella's eyes moved to Elaine Parker, still standing near the door.
A calculation.
A reassessment.
"Elaine," she said.
"You saw what happened.
Tell him."
Elaine looked at the floor.
"Elaine." Sharper now.
"Tell him what you saw."
Elaine raised her head.
Her voice was quiet but steady.
"I saw Khloe on the floor.
I saw you standing over her."
"That's not —"
"That's what I saw."
Isabella's expression changed.
Not fear exactly.
Something colder.
A woman who had just watched one door close and was already looking for another.
"You'll regret this," she said to Elaine.
"Both of you."
The medical team arrived before anyone could respond.
Two nurses and a doctor moved into the suite with practiced efficiency.
Marcus stepped back to give them room.
He watched them check Khloe's pulse, her abdomen, her breathing.
The doctor looked up at him.
"We need to move her.
Now."
Marcus nodded.
As they lifted Khloe onto the stretcher, her eyes found his.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't have to.
He took her hand and didn't let go.
Daniel Reeves stood and turned to Isabella.
He was not a tall man, but something in the way he looked at her made her take a half step back.
"Don't leave the building," he said.
"You can't tell me —"
"The police are already on their way up." He glanced at the phone in his hand.
"I called them four minutes ago.
Before I even walked through that door."
Isabella opened her mouth.
Closed it.
For the first time all evening, she had nothing to say.
The stretcher rolled out of the suite.
Marcus walked beside it, his hand still holding Khloe's.
Isabella stood alone in the room, surrounded by broken crystal and the wreckage of everything she had believed she could control.
May you like
Down the corridor, a door opened.
Two uniformed officers stepped out of the elevator.
