The first thing I felt wasn’t fear.

It was pain.

One second I was standing inside the private hospital suite, finally enjoying a few quiet moments after hours of smiling for cameras at the charity gala downstairs.

The next…

My body slammed backward into the cold marble table.

The impact stole the air from my lungs.

A sharp pain shot through my back, and before I could even think, both of my hands flew protectively to my stomach.

Seven months.

That was all I could think about.

My baby.

Across the room stood Isabella Rossi.

She looked flawless.

Her crimson evening gown shimmered beneath the soft golden lights, and her expression carried the confidence of someone who believed she’d already won.

For weeks, she’d been making my life miserable.

The fake smiles.

The whispered insults.

The way she deliberately touched my husband, Marcus, during public events just long enough for photographers to notice.

Every appearance became another humiliation.

Tonight…

She finally stopped pretending.

“You were never supposed to stand beside him,” she said quietly.

Her voice was calm.

Almost gentle.

“You were only supposed to give him a child… and then disappear.”

I stared at her.

For a moment, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Leave.”

My voice shook, but I refused to look away.

“Get out.”

She smiled.

Instead of leaving…

She stepped closer.

The jealousy she’d hidden for months vanished.

What remained was something much darker.

Then she shoved me.

Hard.

I stumbled backward again, crashing into the marble table with enough force to send a crystal champagne glass flying onto the floor.

It shattered like an explosion.

I reached for the edge of the table, desperately trying to stay on my feet.

My body wouldn’t listen.

Before I could recover, Isabella closed the distance between us.

Her eyes were empty.

Cold.

Without a word, she drove the pointed heel of her stiletto into my side.

Pain exploded through me.

I collapsed onto the marble floor.

For several endless seconds, I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t scream.

I couldn’t even think.

Except for one thing.

Please…

Protect my baby.

I curled around my stomach, tears filling my eyes as every instinct told me to shield the tiny life growing inside me.

Then the door burst open.

“Khloe!”

Marcus.

Still wearing the black tuxedo from the gala, he froze in the doorway.

Behind him stood Elaine Parker, our event coordinator.

Neither of them moved.

The room looked like chaos frozen in time.

Broken crystal scattered across the floor.

My white maternity dress was wrinkled and stained.

I was lying on the marble, struggling to breathe.

Isabella stood above me.

Marcus slowly looked from me…

…to her.

I watched his face change.

He understood.

This wasn’t an argument.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

She had attacked me.

But before either of us could speak…

Isabella transformed.

The hatred vanished from her face.

Her eyes instantly filled with tears.

Her hands began trembling.

She pointed at me.

“She attacked me.”

Her voice sounded frightened.

“I was only defending myself.”

For one terrible moment…

Nobody spoke.

Some people looked at me.

Some looked at Isabella.

No one knew who to believe.

But I did.

Because while everyone inside that room was searching for the truth…

I remembered something Isabella had forgotten.

The security cameras mounted above us had recorded every second.

Every shove.

Every word.

Every lie.

And someone else was already on the way.

My uncle.

The man responsible for hospital security.

The man with the authority to unlock every camera inside the building.

Isabella believed she’d just destroyed my family.

She had no idea…

She had just handed us the evidence that would destroy her instead.