Chapter 4 - The Offshore Ledger
Marcus did not answer me immediately; his eyes stared through Isabella like she was a ghost.
"She's lying to save her own skin," Marcus finally said, turning back toward my gurney with a forced smile.
"Am I lying, Marcus?" Isabella taunted, stepping away from the wall with newfound bravado.
"Tell your sweet, fragile little wife about the offshore LLC you opened in the Cayman Islands last spring."
Dr. Bennett cleared his throat loudly, gesturing to the hallway. "We need to get Mrs. Vance to the scan room immediately."
"Marcus, what LLC?" I demanded, fighting against the nurse trying to buckle the safety belt around my legs.
"Khloe, focus on the baby," Marcus urged, stepping beside me and grasping my cold hand. "Nothing else matters right now."
"Don't touch me until you tell me the truth!" I snapped, pulling my arm away from his grip.
Marcus looked stung, his eyes flashing with pain, but Isabella’s shrill laughter cut through our exchange.
"The LLC that paid twenty thousand dollars in cryptocurrency to a private mechanic in Jersey City!" Isabella yelled.
Arthur’s phone dropped down to his side, his face suddenly turning as pale as stone.
"Marcus," Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave. "Tell me you didn't hire that mechanic."
Marcus turned around slowly, his shoulders square, but the veins on his neck were pulsing violently.
"I hired an investigator to look into the car after Khloe complained about the strange brake noises," Marcus said evenly.
"Then why did the wire originate from an untraceable shell company registered to your personal alias?" Isabella fired back.
She looked at me, a cruel, triumphant smirk spreading across her swollen, red lips.
"He wanted the insurance payout, Khloe," Isabella whispered maliciously. "He needed fifty million to cover his market losses."
"Shut your mouth!" Marcus bellowed, charging toward her until the security guards stepped between them.
"Sir, you need to step back!" the head guard warned, raising a hand toward Marcus's chest.
I felt a sharp, stabbing contraction deep within my lower abdomen, causing me to cry out in agony.
The fetal monitor let out a high-pitched, warning trill as the baby's heart rate spiked again.
"She's going into active preterm labor!" Dr. Bennett shouted, pushing the gurney past the threshold of the door.
"Khloe!" Marcus yelled, trying to push past the security guards to follow the rolling bed.
"Stay away from me!" I screamed through the tears, clutching my stomach as the pain ripped through my back.
The double doors of the maternity ward swung shut behind us, cutting off the sight of Marcus's desperate face.
As the nurses sprinted down the corridor, the ceiling lights strobed past my eyes like a bad dream.
Did the man I loved, the father of my child, try to kill me on that mountain road?
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Or was Isabella weaving a web of lies so intricate it would destroy us both before the sun went down?
Before I could process the terror, the nurse prepped a heavy sedative syringe, and darkness began creeping around the edges of my vision.
