CHAPTER 3 – EVERY SECRET HAS A PRICE
The operating room doors burst open.
Marcus was already on his feet before the doctor spoke.
"Mr. Thorne..."
"How's my wife?"
The surgeon removed his surgical cap.
His face revealed everything.
"We had no choice."
Marcus's heart stopped.
"The placental abruption became catastrophic."
"We performed an emergency Caesarean section."
Silence.
"The baby was delivered twelve weeks early."
Marcus struggled to breathe.
"My son..."
The doctor's expression softened.
"He's alive."
Marcus nearly collapsed with relief.
"But..."
That single word froze him again.
"His lungs are severely underdeveloped."
"We've transferred him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit."
"The next seventy-two hours will determine whether he survives."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"And Khloe?"
The surgeon hesitated.
"She's stable."
"She lost a dangerous amount of blood."
"But she's alive."
Marcus leaned against the wall.
For the first time that night...
He cried.
Not quietly.
Not with dignity.
The tears came without warning.
Every mistake.
Every lie he had believed.
Every time he had dismissed Khloe's fears.
All of it had led here.
A premature child fighting for life.
A wife lying unconscious.
And a family shattered.
Three days later...
Khloe remained in intensive care.
The baby—whom Marcus named Ethan after the name Khloe had secretly chosen months before—remained inside an incubator surrounded by tubes and monitors.
Marcus refused to leave the hospital.
He spent every hour moving between two rooms.
One held his unconscious wife.
The other...
His tiny son.
Barely larger than Marcus's two hands.
Every beep of the monitor reminded him how close he had come to losing both.
Then his phone rang.
It was Detective Elena Brooks.
"Mr. Thorne."
"We've uncovered something."
Marcus stepped into the hallway.
"What is it?"
"It isn't only attempted murder."
"There are financial crimes."
Marcus frowned.
"What kind?"
"Massive ones."
One hour later...
Marcus sat inside the Financial Crimes Division.
Boxes of evidence covered an entire conference table.
Bank statements.
Corporate ledgers.
Offshore transfers.
Digital payment records.
Detective Brooks slid a thick folder toward him.
"We traced Richard Collins' accounts."
Marcus opened the file.
His expression changed immediately.
Millions.
Not thousands.
Millions of dollars had disappeared from Thorne Global over the past eighteen months.
Each transfer had been carefully disguised.
Small enough to avoid suspicion.
Large enough to build a fortune.
"Who received the money?"
Brooks pushed another document across the table.
An offshore corporation.
Silver Crest Holdings.
Owner...
Isabella Rossi.
Marcus stared in disbelief.
"No..."
"It gets worse."
Another folder appeared.
The signature at the bottom belonged to someone Marcus recognized instantly.
His father.
Edward Thorne.
Marcus looked up.
"Impossible."
Brooks remained silent.
Edward's authorization had approved multiple internal security overrides.
Private travel records.
Executive schedules.
Confidential financial files.
Everything Isabella needed...
Had come directly from Marcus's own father.
Marcus felt the room spin.
"My father helped her?"
"We believe so."
"But why?"
Brooks answered quietly.
"Money."
That evening...
Marcus drove straight to the Thorne Estate.
Edward sat beside the fireplace reading financial reports as though nothing had happened.
"You look terrible."
Marcus threw the investigation file onto the table.
"What is this?"
Edward barely glanced at it.
"I assume you've found out."
Marcus stared.
"You admit it?"
Edward sighed.
"Business requires difficult decisions."
"You helped the woman who nearly killed my wife!"
Edward slowly stood.
"I protected this family's future."
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"You call theft and attempted murder protection?"
Edward remained calm.
"You were becoming weak."
"You married for love."
"You ignored shareholders."
"Khloe made you sentimental."
Marcus's fists clenched.
"You betrayed your own grandson."
Edward looked away.
"The child wasn't part of the plan."
Marcus stepped closer.
"You planned this?"
"I planned a divorce."
Edward answered coldly.
"Isabella made her own decisions."
Marcus had heard enough.
"You're no longer Chairman."
Edward smiled.
"You can't remove me."
"I own forty percent of the company."
Marcus looked directly into his father's eyes.
"Tomorrow..."
"We'll let the Board decide."
The next morning...
The executive boardroom at Thorne Global overflowed with directors, attorneys and investors.
No one knew why an emergency meeting had been called.
Edward entered confidently.
Isabella followed behind him.
She wore white.
Elegant.
Composed.
Certain she had already won.
Richard Collins sat two seats away.
Marcus arrived last.
His expression was unreadable.
The meeting began.
Edward stood.
"Our company requires stability."
"I therefore recommend that Marcus take an extended leave until his family situation improves."
Several directors nodded.
Then Marcus pressed a button.
The enormous screen behind him illuminated.
Hospital footage.
Parking garage footage.
Financial records.
Wire transfers.
Every director watched in complete silence.
Frame after frame.
Transfer after transfer.
Lie after lie.
Edward's face slowly lost its color.
Richard tried to stand.
Security officers blocked the exit.
Isabella stopped smiling.
Marcus spoke only once.
"This..."
He looked around the room.
"...is the truth."
No one defended them.
No one could.
One by one...
Board members voted.
Edward Thorne...
Removed as Chairman.
Richard Collins...
Terminated immediately.
A forensic audit...
Approved unanimously.
Marcus had barely announced the results...
When alarms sounded downstairs.
The lobby doors burst open.
Federal agents flooded the building.
Behind them came detectives from Major Crimes.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation!"
"No one leave the building!"
Employees froze.
The elevators locked automatically.
Richard bolted toward the emergency staircase.
Two agents tackled him before he reached the door.
Isabella reacted instantly.
She kicked off her heels.
Ran toward the private elevator.
She almost made it.
Almost.
The doors opened.
Two police officers stepped out.
She turned.
Another corridor.
More agents.
Every exit...
Blocked.
An FBI agent held up a warrant.
"Isabella Rossi."
"You're under arrest for conspiracy, wire fraud, attempted murder, obstruction of justice, and financial crimes."
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
"You think you've won?"
The agents exchanged confused glances.
Marcus walked toward her.
"It's over."
She smiled.
"No, Marcus."
"You still don't know the truth."
He stopped.
"What truth?"
She leaned closer.
Close enough that only he could hear her whisper.
"The man you call your father..."
"...isn't a Thorne."
Marcus's face drained of color.
May you like
Isabella smiled for the first time since her arrest.
"And that's only the beginning."
