She Kicked a Billionaire's Pregnant Wife... But Didn't Know the Hospital Was Watching
She Kicked a Billionaire's Pregnant Wife... But Didn't Know the Hospital Was Watching
She was wrong.
The attack happened too quickly for anyone to dismiss it as another feud between wealthy socialites.
Khloe Thorne was seven months pregnant.
She was already exhausted from the charity gala downstairs.
The endless camera flashes.
The empty congratulations.
The suffocating scent of expensive perfume.
She had barely caught her balance when the shove sent her backward.
Her spine slammed against the sharp edge of a marble table.
Pain shot through her body.
Across the room, Isabella Rossi never flinched.
Wrapped in a flawless crimson gown, she lifted her chin with the confidence of a woman convinced she had already won.
For weeks, she had poisoned Khloe's marriage.
Calculated smiles.
Quiet insults.
Lingering looks at Marcus that turned every public appearance into a private humiliation.
Tonight, there would be no pretending.
No polite smiles.
No carefully maintained façade.
Only open hatred.
"You were supposed to know your place," Isabella said, her voice cold enough to cut.
"Smile for the cameras. Give him an heir. Then disappear."
Khloe instinctively covered her stomach.
"Leave."
Isabella ignored the warning.
She rushed forward.
Both hands slammed into Khloe's chest, driving her into the marble table again.
A cry escaped Khloe's lips.
A crystal champagne glass toppled from the table.
It shattered across the polished floor.
Khloe reached out to steady herself.
She couldn't.
Isabella closed the distance.
Her expression hardened into something cruel.
Then her stiletto heel crashed into Khloe's side.
The blow threw her to the floor.
Agony ripped through her abdomen.
The air vanished from her lungs.
For one terrifying moment, she couldn't even scream.
She didn't think about fighting back.
She only wrapped herself around the child growing inside her.
The suite door flew open.
Marcus Thorne stood in the doorway, still wearing the black tuxedo from the gala.
Behind him, event coordinator Elaine Parker stopped in disbelief.
Silence swallowed the room.
Khloe lay curled on the marble floor.
Her white maternity dress was stained and wrinkled.
Isabella stood over her in blood-red silk, breathing hard.
Crystal fragments glittered beneath the chandelier.
Marcus scanned the scene.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
It was a brutal assault.
Isabella reacted instantly.
The rage disappeared.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her voice shook with carefully rehearsed fear.
"She attacked me."
She pointed directly at Khloe.
Every word sounded perfectly innocent.
Time seemed to stop.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
None of them realized that every second had already been captured by the hospital's security cameras.
Nor did they know the man racing toward the suite wasn't merely a hospital employee.
He was Khloe's uncle.
Within minutes, the recordings would expose the truth.
Every lie would collapse.
Every betrayal would be laid bare.
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And the people who believed they could destroy a billionaire's family without paying the price...
were about to discover how catastrophic that mistake would become.
