Chapter 8 - A HUSBAND IS NOT AN ALIBI
By afternoon, the bank had placed a hold on the pending transfer after the foundation’s authorized officers reported suspected fraud.
Some earlier payments were already gone.
Nobody pretended otherwise.
Adrian stopped answering calls.
His lawyer sent an email accusing Marcus of making him a scapegoat.
Then the first headline appeared.
BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE AT CENTER OF HOSPITAL GALA INCIDENT.
Khloe read it before Rachel could take the phone.
The article quoted an unnamed source describing her as jealous, unstable, and increasingly suspicious during pregnancy.
There was a photograph of Isabella smiling beside Marcus at a ribbon-cutting.
Khloe’s photograph showed her shielding her face from a camera outside a grocery store.
“They picked the one where I look afraid,” she said.
Marcus reached for his phone.
“I’ll have it taken down.”
“How?”
“I’ll call—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“You keep thinking there’s a person you can call who will make everything disappear.”
“I want to help.”
“Then listen.”
He put the phone away.
Khloe looked exhausted.
“I don’t want your publicist calling me emotional. I don’t want a statement about a difficult pregnancy. I want people to know I said no and she hurt me.”
Marcus nodded.
“What do you want to say?”
“Nothing today.”
“Then nothing today.”
He released his own short statement through his attorney.
His wife had reported an assault.
He supported her.
The foundation had ordered an independent financial review.
He would cooperate with investigators.
There was no demand for sympathy.
No polished description of his devotion.
That evening, Ortiz came back with a question.
“Did you authorize Mr. Vale to negotiate any personal arrangement with Ms. Rossi?”
Marcus frowned.
“What kind of arrangement?”
“She claims you intended to leave your wife after the baby was born.”
Khloe went perfectly still.
“No,” Marcus said.
“She says she has messages.”
“Then inspect the originals.”
“We will.”
After Ortiz left, Marcus turned toward the bed.
Khloe was watching him.
“Did you ever let her think there was something between you?”
“No affair. No promises.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He sat down slowly.
He remembered late dinners. Familiar jokes. Isabella criticizing Khloe while he listened instead of stopping her.
“I let her be disrespectful to you,” he said. “And I kept rewarding her with access.”
Khloe looked away.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Adrian.
Ask your wife what she recorded before the gala.
May you like
Marcus looked up.
Khloe had gone pale.
