Chapter 4 - Cold AwakeningThe rhythmic beeping of the fetal heart monitor was the sweetest sound Marcus had ever heard.
He stood in the doorway of the recovery room, watching his wife. Khloe looked small and fragile in the massive hospital bed. An IV dripped clear fluids into her bruised hand. Her face was pale, devoid of makeup, but to Marcus, she had never looked more beautiful.
He took a tentative step forward. "Khloe?"
Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, letting the beeping of the monitor assure her that her baby was still alive. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him.
There was no anger in her eyes. There were no tears.
There was only a terrifying, freezing indifference.
"You're here," she stated. It wasn't a question. It wasn't an invitation. It was just a fact.
Marcus rushed to her bedside, dropping into the chair and reaching for her hand. "Khloe, sweetheart, I am so sorry. I am so damn sorry. The doctor said the baby is stable. You're both going to be okay."
Before his fingers could graze her skin, Khloe pulled her hand away and tucked it beneath the thin hospital blanket.
Marcus froze.
"Don't touch me, Marcus," she said quietly. Her voice was weak, but the steel underneath it was undeniable.
"Khloe... I know you're angry—"
"I’m not angry," she interrupted, staring blankly at the wall. "Anger requires energy. I don't have any left. I spent it all trying to protect myself and my child from a threat you invited into our lives."
"I didn't know she was insane!" Marcus pleaded, his chest tightening with panic. This wasn't the reaction he expected. He expected tears, yelling, maybe throwing a glass. He knew how to handle that. He didn't know how to handle this absolute coldness. "I saw the tape, Khloe. Richard showed me. Isabella is in jail. She was arrested tonight. I’m destroying her family's company tomorrow. I will ruin her!"
Khloe slowly turned her head back to him. Her gaze was piercing. "You're ruining her now. When it's too late. When I’m lying in a hospital bed with internal bleeding."
"I—"
"Three weeks ago," Khloe said, her voice steady, despite the tears welling in her eyes. "She spilled hot tea on my arm at the country club. You said it was an accident. Two weeks ago, she cornered me in the restroom at the gala and told me I was just an incubator. You told me I misunderstood her. Yesterday, I begged you not to let her attend tonight. I told you I didn't feel safe."
Marcus looked down at his blood-stained hands, shame suffocating him. "The merger... her father—"
"Money, Marcus. It's always the money. The optics. The power," Khloe finished for him. She placed a protective hand over her stomach. "You chose a business deal over my peace of mind. And because you gave her a VIP pass into our lives, she thought she had the right to kick your unborn child to death."
"Khloe, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you," Marcus begged, a single tear escaping the billionaire's eye—something no one in New York had ever seen.
"You can't make it up," Khloe whispered. "The doctor said I can't have any stress. Looking at you, remembering how you defended her... it stresses me out."
Marcus’s heart stopped. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want you to leave this room," Khloe said, closing her eyes. "I want you to go back to your penthouse. I want Uncle Richard to handle my medical care. And I don't want to see you until this baby is born."
"Khloe, please! You're my wife! I can't just abandon you!"
"You already did," she replied softly. "Get out, Marcus. Before my blood pressure spikes."
Marcus stood frozen. He wanted to argue. He wanted to demand his right to stay as her husband. But the heart monitor began to beep a little faster, registering Khloe's rising anxiety.
Defeated, crushed, and utterly broken, Marcus took a step back.
"I'll have my security team guard the door. No one gets in," Marcus whispered, his voice cracking. "I love you, Khloe."
May you like
She didn't answer. She just turned her head away.
As Marcus walked out of the room, he realized the terrifying truth. Isabella's kick hadn't just broken Khloe's body. It had broken his marriage. And fixing it was going to take a lot more than a billionaire's bank account.
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