Chapter 6 - The Locked File
Marcus had expected Khloe to scream.
He had prepared himself for rage.
He had prepared himself for divorce papers.
What he had not prepared for was silence.
The next morning, he entered her room carrying coffee she did not touch.
Khloe sat beside the window.
“You can sit.”
He did.
She looked at him.
“Give me your phone.”
Marcus unlocked it.
She held out her hand.
He placed it there.
“Laptop.”
“It’s in the car.”
“Have someone bring it.”
He nodded.
“Company tablet.”
“Yes.”
“Private email passwords.”
Marcus hesitated.
Khloe noticed.
He reached for a piece of paper.
“I’ll write them down.”
“No.”
She slid her phone toward him.
“Type them.”
He obeyed.
When he finished, Khloe asked the question he had feared.
“Was Isabella the only one?”
“Yes.”
“Think carefully.”
“She was.”
“Did you love her?”
Marcus looked down.
“No.”
“Did you tell her you did?”
Silence.
Khloe laughed softly.
“There it is.”
“I said things.”
“To keep her happy?”
“Yes.”
“To keep your secret comfortable?”
Marcus flinched.
“Yes.”
Khloe turned toward the window.
“I used to think infidelity was about sex.”
“It isn’t.”
“It’s about creating a private world where your spouse is the only person not allowed to know the truth.”
Marcus had no answer.
She looked back at him.
“What is the biggest thing you still haven’t told me?”
Marcus became still.
Khloe saw it instantly.
“Marcus.”
“There is something.”
“What?”
He stood.
“Six weeks ago, my security team found evidence that someone had been tracking your schedule.”
Khloe stared at him.
“What?”
“Cars outside the house.”
“Photographs from your prenatal appointments.”
“Someone accessed our domestic staff calendar.”
Her voice became dangerously quiet.
“You knew someone was following me?”
“I increased your security.”
“You told me those guards were because of the gala season.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you.”
Khloe’s eyes filled with disbelief.
“You didn’t want to frighten me?”
“I thought stress—”
“Stop.”
Marcus stopped.
“You knew.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I thought I could solve it.”
“You always think you can solve everything alone.”
“I was wrong.”
“No.”
Khloe shook her head.
“You were dishonest.”
Marcus accepted it.
“Yes.”
A knock interrupted them.
Sebastian entered carrying a black folder.
He looked between them.
“Bad time?”
Khloe gave a humorless smile.
“There are no good times anymore.”
Sebastian placed the folder on her bed.
“What is it?”
“Your father-in-law’s sealed estate documents.”
Marcus frowned.
“How did you get those?”
“Lawyers become surprisingly cooperative when detectives start asking about attempted murder.”
Khloe opened the folder.
Several pages inside were marked confidential.
One paragraph had been highlighted.
She read it twice.
Then looked at Marcus.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
Sebastian leaned against the wall.
“There’s more.”
Khloe continued reading.
The succession trust was not simply about corporate voting rights.
It contained a secondary clause.
If the child was born and Khloe remained married to Marcus, she would control the trust until the child turned twenty-five.
If Khloe died before the birth, the shares stayed under board control.
If Marcus divorced Khloe before the birth, the trust still activated.
But its temporary administrator would not be Khloe.
It would be the most senior Thorne family trustee.
Damian.
Marcus whispered.
“Oh God.”
Khloe looked up.
Sebastian finished the thought.
“If Damian could destroy your marriage before the baby arrived, he wouldn’t need Khloe dead.”
“He only needed her divorced.”
The room became silent.
Khloe suddenly understood Isabella’s behavior.
The affair.
The taunts.
The attack.
The lies.
Maybe the goal had never been simply to hurt her.
Maybe Isabella had been sent to make certain Khloe discovered Marcus’s betrayal at the most devastating possible moment.
Sebastian pointed toward one sentence in the document.
“There’s another problem.”
Khloe read it.
A formal challenge to the trust had already been filed.
Three days earlier.
May you like
Before the hospital attack.
Someone had known exactly what was coming.
