Chapter 5 - The Race Against Time
The doors slammed shut as Isabella was dragged away, her muffled screams fading down the corridor. Within seconds, a team of specialized neonatal nurses flooded into my suite, wheeling in crash carts, medication pumps, and monitoring equipment.
"Administering magnesium sulfate now," Dr. Campbell ordered, injecting a clear solution into my secondary IV port. "Khloe, you’re going to feel a sudden wave of heat and nausea. That’s normal. Focus on my voice and breathe deeply."
The medication hit my bloodstream like molten fire. My veins burned, and a heavy, crushing fatigue settled over my chest. I clung to Marcus’s hand with everything I had left. His knuckles were bruised from the sheer force of my grip, but he didn't flinch. He leaned over me, his forehead pressed against mine, whispering prayers and promises directly into my ear.
"You're the strongest woman I've ever known," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You protected our boy with your own body. Now let me protect you. Just hold on, Khloe."
Across the room, Marcus’s tablet began vibrating incessantly on the nightstand. The screen lit up with an incoming call: *Raymond Vance*.
Marcus glanced at the screen. A dark, terrifying smirk touched his lips. He picked up the device and pressed the speaker button while keeping his other hand locked around mine.
"Marcus, my boy," Raymond’s smooth, aristocratic voice drifted through the speaker, feigning deep concern. "I just received an alert from security at the hospital. Rumors are spreading that Khloe had an accident. Is everything alright? Do you need me to step in and handle tomorrow's shareholder summit?"
Marcus waited three full seconds before speaking. When he did, his voice was as steady and sharp as a surgeon's scalpel.
"She didn't have an accident, Uncle Raymond. She survived an assassination attempt."
A heavy silence fell over the line. Raymond cleared his throat. "Assassination? That’s absurd! Who would do such a thing?"
"Your little pet, Isabella," Marcus said smoothly. "She dropped the syringe, Raymond. And she sang like a canary on my private 4K audio feed before the police hauled her away in handcuffs."
On the other end of the line, the sound of a glass shattering against wood was clearly audible. Raymond’s breathing grew shallow and ragged.
"Marcus, whatever she said, she’s mentally unstable—"
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"Save it for your arraignment," Marcus interrupted. "I’ve frozen your corporate access, locked down your offshore accounts, and submitted the video to the Department of Justice. Enjoy the next thirty minutes of freedom, Raymond. Because after that, you will spend the rest of your pathetic life in a federal penitentiary."
Marcus ended the call and smashed the tablet against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He turned back to me, his gaze softening instantly. "It's done. Now focus on our son."
