Chapter 2 - YESTERDAY NEVER DIED
The hospital locked down the maternity floor within three minutes, but Isabella had
vanished into the building’s maze of private elevators, service corridors, and
underground parking access. Marcus did not chase her. Every instinct he possessed
screamed at him to tear through the hospital until he found her, but Khloe’s hand was
wrapped around his, and the monitor beside her bed had become the center of his world.
The contractions were slowing, yet not stopping. Dr. Naomi Shah, the attending
maternal-fetal specialist, arrived with two residents and an expression that made Marcus
understand this was no longer merely an assault investigation.
Dr. Shah reviewed the ultrasound in silence. “There is no obvious placental separation,”
she said at last, “and the fetal heart tracing is reassuring right now. But the uterine
activity is more intense than I would expect from a fall alone.” Marcus looked at the IV
line. “Something was put into her medication yesterday.” The doctor’s eyes sharpened.
“We do not know that yet.” He showed her the security footage. She watched the masked
woman approach the IV stand, manipulate the line, and leave. The change in her posture
was subtle but immediate. “Then we treat that as a possible medication tampering event
until proven otherwise.”
Blood and urine samples were drawn under chain-of-custody protocol. Pharmacy staff were
ordered to preserve every vial, bag, syringe, and electronic medication record connected
to Khloe’s room. Marcus called his attorney, Daniel Reeves, and told him to bring a
criminal investigator who had once worked major cases for the state police. Daniel did
not ask why. He had known Marcus for fifteen years and understood that when Marcus’s
voice became quiet, the situation was worse than when he shouted.
Khloe slept for twenty minutes and woke to find Marcus sitting beside her with both
hands clasped around hers. The anger had left his face, but not his eyes. “Tell me about
yesterday,” he said. She turned her head toward the window. Rain crawled down the glass,
smearing the city into silver streaks. “She came after lunch. She said your father’s
trust was about to change everything.” Marcus frowned. The Vale Family Voting Trust had
been written decades earlier. Its final clause transferred a block of voting shares to
Marcus’s direct descendants after the birth of his first child. Until then, those shares
remained controlled by a five-person board.
Khloe swallowed. “Isabella said your baby would make enemies you didn’t even know you
had.” Marcus felt the statement settle into place beside old conversations he had
dismissed as corporate maneuvering. His company was weeks away from rejecting a merger
proposed by Victor Dane, one of the trust board members. If Marcus’s son was born, the
additional voting power would make Victor’s coalition almost irrelevant. “Did she
threaten the baby?” he asked. Khloe’s eyes filled with tears. “Not directly. She said
accidents happen when people interfere with fortunes.”
Marcus stood so abruptly that the chair legs struck the floor. Khloe caught his wrist.
“There’s more.” She explained that after Isabella left, she had felt unusually sleepy.
She remembered a nurse she did not recognize checking the IV. She remembered waking
later with cramps and a bitter metallic taste. When she asked the evening nurse what
medication had been added, the nurse found no corresponding order. Khloe had wanted to
call Marcus, but his plane had been over the Atlantic after a meeting in London.
Isabella returned that night, stood at the foot of the bed, and told Khloe she was
“imagining things because pregnancy made women emotional.”
“Why didn’t you tell the doctor?” Marcus asked, softer now. Shame moved across Khloe’s
face. “I did. A resident said the cramps could be dehydration. And then Isabella came
back this morning acting kind, saying she was sorry for upsetting me. She brought
sparkling cider. I thought if I kept her talking, maybe she would say something useful.”
Marcus looked toward the shattered glass on the floor, now sealed inside an evidence
bag. “Instead she attacked you.” Khloe nodded. “She asked me to sign a statement saying
I wanted the pregnancy managed privately and that I refused emergency intervention
unless you approved it.”
Marcus stared at her. “Why would she want that?” “I don’t know.” Khloe’s voice shook.
“But when I refused, she grabbed my wrist. I reached for the call button. She pushed me.
Then you came in.” Marcus leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers. For the
first time since opening the door, he let himself feel the guilt beneath the fury. He
had allowed Isabella near his family because she had once been part of his inner circle,
because their families had shared holidays and boardrooms, because he had believed
history made someone predictable.
Daniel Reeves arrived with Lena Ortiz, a former major-crimes detective whose calm eyes
missed nothing. Lena watched the footage twice. “The masked woman knew exactly where the
camera’s blind edge used to be,” she said. “But she didn’t know the camera was upgraded
last month.” Marcus remembered approving the security upgrade after a journalist
photographed Khloe through a clinic window. The new lens had a wider angle. Chance, or
Providence, had captured the hallway nod between Isabella and the unknown woman.
Lena asked the hospital for employee access logs. A problem emerged immediately. The
service badge used near Khloe’s room at 4:20 p.m. yesterday belonged to Nurse Tessa
Grant—but Tessa’s supervisor insisted Tessa had called in sick. Her badge had supposedly
been deactivated. The system showed otherwise. Even stranger, Tessa Grant had not
returned home the previous night. Her sister had reported her missing that morning.
Marcus felt the case change shape again. “So the woman in the video may not be Tessa.”
Lena nodded. “Or it may be Tessa under pressure. We need to find her before we decide.”
She turned to the pharmacy logs. At 4:18 p.m., an override had been entered under the
credentials of Dr. Adrian Cole, a private obstetrician with visiting privileges. The
order had been canceled forty seconds later. Yet a sealed emergency medication kit had
been removed from automated storage during that window.
Dr. Shah returned before Marcus could ask what medication had been taken. Her face was
controlled, but the urgency was unmistakable. “The lab found traces of a uterine
stimulant that was not prescribed to your wife. The level is low now, which suggests
exposure occurred hours ago, possibly yesterday.” Khloe went white. Marcus’s stomach
turned with a violence that nearly doubled him over. Dr. Shah raised a hand. “She and
the baby are stable. That is what matters right now. But yes, someone appears to have
administered an unauthorized drug.”
A police detective arrived and formally opened a criminal investigation. Marcus handed
over the footage and told Daniel to give the detective everything. No private
retaliation, no threats, no interference. The promise tasted foreign to him, but he
understood that Khloe needed truth more than vengeance. Still, he called his head of
corporate security and issued one instruction: locate Isabella, Victor Dane, Dr. Adrian
Cole, and Nurse Tessa Grant. Observe only. Report everything.
At 11:43 p.m.,
Marcus’s phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number contained a photograph of Tessa Grant sitting in a dim
motel room, alive, holding that day’s newspaper. Beneath the image were six words.
SHE KNOWS WHY
ISABELLA CHOSE KHLOE.
Marcus looked
toward his sleeping wife.
Then another
message appeared.
ASK YOUR FATHER
May you like
ABOUT THE FIRST BABY.
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