Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WITH THE SYRINGE
Khloe did not scream.
She knew screaming would waste the only second she had.
She threw the plastic water cup.
The cup struck the woman’s face.
Water splashed across her uniform.
The syringe slipped from her hand.
Khloe hit the call button.
The woman lunged.
Khloe twisted away.
Pain tore through her side.
The fetal monitor alarm began screaming.
The door opened almost immediately.
A security guard stepped inside.
“What the hell?”
The woman ran.
She hit him with her shoulder.
He grabbed at her sleeve.
The fabric tore.
She slipped into the hallway.
The second guard saw her.
“Stop!”
She sprinted toward the service corridor.
One guard chased her.
The other rushed to Khloe’s bed.
“Mrs. Thorne?”
Khloe pointed toward the floor.
“The syringe.”
“Don’t touch it.”
Her real nurse arrived seconds later.
Then another.
Then the doctor.
The room became noise.
Questions.
Footsteps.
Alarms.
Khloe’s eyes never left the syringe lying beside the bed.
Her hands shook.
She could not stop them.
“Where is Marcus?”
The nurse looked toward the hallway.
“We’re calling him.”
“Now.”
The word came out sharper than Khloe intended.
“Call him now.”
Downstairs, Marcus was still staring at Thomas Reed when Adrian’s phone rang.
Adrian answered.
His face changed instantly.
“What?”
Marcus looked at him.
Adrian turned and ran.
Marcus followed without asking.
Detective Brooks called after them.
“What happened?”
Adrian shouted back.
“Someone just tried to get into Khloe’s IV.”
Isabella’s head snapped upward.
Thomas went pale.
Detective Brooks noticed both reactions.
She pointed at Cole.
“Stay with them.”
Then she followed Marcus and Adrian.
They reached Khloe’s floor less than two minutes later.
Marcus saw hospital staff surrounding the room.
He pushed through.
“Khloe!”
She looked at him.
The relief in her face nearly broke him.
He reached the bed.
“What happened?”
“A woman came in.”
“She said she was a nurse.”
“She had a syringe.”
Marcus turned toward Adrian.
Adrian was already looking at the floor where evidence technicians had placed a marker beside it.
“What was in it?”
The doctor shook his head.
“We don’t know yet.”
Marcus’s voice hardened.
“Find out.”
“We are.”
Detective Brooks stepped into the room.
She looked at Khloe.
“Can you describe her?”
Khloe nodded.
“Thirty, maybe.”
“Dark hair.”
“About five-six.”
“She wore scrubs.”
“Blue.”
“Badge turned backward.”
Brooks wrote quickly.
“Did she say anything?”
Khloe remembered the woman’s hand around her wrist.
“One word.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
Brooks looked toward the syringe.
“Anything else?”
Khloe shook her head.
Then she stopped.
“The perfume.”
Brooks looked back.
“Perfume?”
“I smelled it when she leaned over me.”
“What kind?”
Khloe closed her eyes.
Floral.
Warm.
Expensive.
Familiar.
Her eyes opened.
“I’ve smelled it before.”
“Where?”
Khloe looked at Marcus.
“At the gala.”
Marcus frowned.
“On who?”
Khloe searched her memory.
Hundreds of people had hugged her.
Photographers.
Donors.
Friends.
Board members.
Women in expensive gowns.
Men in tuxedos.
Then one memory sharpened.
A man leaning in to kiss her cheek.
A hand lightly touching her shoulder.
A silver-haired figure saying congratulations.
Khloe’s stomach turned.
“Thomas.”
Marcus stared at her.
“What?”
“Thomas Reed.”
“The perfume?”
“Not on him.”
Khloe shook her head.
“When he hugged me, someone was standing beside him.”
“Who?”
Khloe looked toward Adrian.
“His assistant.”
Adrian’s face changed.
Marcus remembered her too.
Natalie Cross.
Thomas’s executive assistant for almost nine years.
Quiet.
Efficient.
Invisible in the way powerful people valued.
Detective Brooks was already typing the name.
“Natalie Cross?”
Marcus nodded.
“She was downstairs tonight.”
Brooks looked at him.
“Do you have a photo?”
Marcus took out his phone.
His hands shook as he searched.
He found a corporate dinner photo.
Thomas stood near the center.
Natalie was beside him.
Khloe looked.
Her face drained.
“That’s her.”
Marcus looked again.
“You’re sure?”
Khloe whispered.
“Yes.”
Detective Brooks stepped into the hallway and began issuing instructions.
Marcus turned toward Khloe.
He wanted to apologize.
He wanted to promise she was safe.
But both words felt insulting now.
She had already been attacked twice.
Once physically.
Once inside the very room meant to protect her.
“Marcus.”
He looked at her.
“Someone inside your world wants me gone.”
He said nothing.
Khloe continued.
“And this is bigger than Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me the truth now.”
“I am.”
“No.”
Khloe looked him directly in the eyes.
“You’re telling me pieces.”
Marcus went still.
“What else is there?”
He looked toward Adrian.
Adrian did not help him.
Khloe noticed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Marcus finally sat.
“There’s a family trust.”
Khloe waited.
“You know about the Thorne voting trust.”
“I know the company is complicated.”
“It’s worse than complicated.”
“How?”
Marcus rubbed his palms together.
“When my grandfather died, he divided control between family branches.”
Khloe frowned.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Marcus hesitated.
Khloe’s voice sharpened.
“What does it have to do with our baby?”
Marcus looked at the monitor.
Then back at her.
“Everything.”
The word landed heavily.
Khloe said nothing.
Marcus continued.
“My grandfather didn’t trust the board.”
“He wanted control to remain with a direct descendant.”
“My father had two sons.”
“Me and Damian.”
Khloe knew Damian Thorne.
Marcus’s older half-brother.
Polished.
Reserved.
Always smiling.
Always standing one step behind Marcus in photographs.
“What about Damian?”
“Damian controls forty-nine percent of the family voting block through his branch.”
“And you?”
“Forty-nine.”
Khloe frowned.
“That’s ninety-eight.”
“The final two percent sits in a succession trust.”
Khloe stared at him.
Marcus continued.
“When the first legitimate child of either branch is born, the two percent vests into that child’s branch.”
Khloe stopped moving.
“Your baby.”
“Yes.”
“Our baby gives you control.”
“Yes.”
Khloe looked toward Adrian.
He already knew.
That realization hurt.
“You knew.”
Adrian nodded.
“Only the basic structure.”
Khloe returned her gaze to Marcus.
“And if the baby isn’t born?”
Marcus’s silence became the answer.
Khloe whispered.
“The two percent stays neutral.”
“Until another qualifying heir.”
“Meaning Damian keeps you deadlocked.”
“Yes.”
Khloe’s breathing changed.
Marcus reached for her hand.
She pulled it away.
“Isabella wanted you.”
“Yes.”
“Someone else wanted the baby gone.”
Marcus’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
The room became colder.
Khloe looked down at her stomach.
For weeks she had believed Isabella’s cruelty came from jealousy.
Now jealousy seemed almost simple.
Someone had taken that obsession and given it direction.
Someone had known the trust.
Someone had known the hospital room.
Someone had known Marcus’s access patterns.
And someone had sent Natalie Cross upstairs with a syringe.
Detective Brooks returned.
“We have the lab running the syringe.”
“Good.”
“There’s another problem.”
Marcus stood.
“What?”
“Natalie Cross is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“She left the gala approximately forty minutes before the first attack.”
Khloe frowned.
“Then who was in my room?”
Brooks turned her phone around.
A security image showed the fake nurse in the service corridor.
The face was partially visible.
It was not Natalie.
Khloe stared.
“But I know that perfume.”
Brooks nodded.
“We searched Cross’s employment records.”
“She has a younger sister.”
Brooks swiped.
Another photograph appeared.
A woman with dark hair.
Same height.
Same bone structure.
Khloe’s stomach dropped.
“Rachel Cross.”
Brooks nodded.
“Former registered nurse.”
Marcus stared.
“Former?”
“License suspended two years ago.”
“For what?”
Brooks’s eyes hardened.
“Medication diversion.”
Adrian cursed under his breath.
Brooks continued.
“She also worked in one of Thomas Reed’s private rehabilitation facilities.”
Marcus looked up.
“Thomas owns clinics?”
“Through an investment partnership.”
Marcus stared at Adrian.
Adrian’s face said the same thing.
The circle was closing.
Then Brooks’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Where?”
Another pause.
Her expression changed.
“We’re coming.”
She ended the call.
Marcus stepped closer.
“What?”
Brooks looked at Khloe first.
Then Marcus.
“Rachel Cross was just found.”
“Where?”
“In the parking garage.”
Khloe swallowed.
“Is she alive?”
Brooks hesitated.
“Yes.”
Marcus frowned.
“Then what happened?”
“She’s unconscious.”
“And she has a note pinned inside her coat.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“What does it say?”
May you like
Detective Brooks looked directly at Marcus.
“She was never supposed to survive the night.”
