Chapter 5: The Passcode
Marcus gave Richard the passcode at 11:47 p.m.
He didn't negotiate.
He didn't ask what would happen to the information.
He typed six digits into the evidence bag through the plastic, handed it back, and sat down in the chair by the window like a man who had already decided something.
Richard handed the phone to the hospital's head of security, who passed it to the private forensic consultant Richard had called the moment Khloe was wheeled into monitoring.
The consultant — a quiet woman named Dr.
Petra Vance — had driven forty minutes to get there.
She set up at the suite's writing desk without a word and began.
Marcus watched her work.
"How bad is it?" he asked Richard.
"That depends on what's in there."
"I mean Khloe.
How bad is she."
Richard looked at him for a long moment.
"Physically, she and the baby are stable.
The doctor wants to keep her overnight for observation."
Marcus exhaled.
"Don't," Richard said.
Marcus looked up.
"Don't sit there and feel relieved like that's the thing you need to be worried about right now." Richard's voice stayed level.
"You gave a woman your private number four months into your marriage.
She used that access to insert herself into your wife's life for over a year.
Tonight she put Khloe on the floor.
And you stood in this room and watched the footage and your first expression was recognition." He paused.
"So I need you to understand something.
The question of whether you love my niece is not the question I'm asking.
The question I'm asking is what you knew, when you knew it, and what you chose to do with that knowledge."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
"I knew Isabella was unstable," he said.
"I ended things before the wedding.
Completely.
I thought it was finished."
"Things," Richard repeated.
"We were involved.
Briefly.
Before I met Khloe." He looked at his hands.
"When I ended it, she accepted it.
Or I thought she did.
The messages started again about two months after the wedding."
"What did she want?"
"At first, just to talk.
Then it escalated.
She said she had information about a business arrangement — something that could affect the Thorne Group's upcoming merger.
She said if I didn't keep the line open, she'd go public with it."
Richard's expression didn't change.
"Blackmail."
"I should have gone to legal immediately.
I know that.
Instead I—" Marcus stopped.
"I managed it myself.
I thought I could contain it."
"And the guest list additions?"
A pause.
"She threatened to make a scene at the gala if I didn't include her.
I thought if I controlled her access, I could control the situation."
Dr.
Vance looked up from the desk.
"Mr.
Thorne," she said.
"I need to ask you about a message thread dated four months ago.
There are forty-seven messages in this exchange.
The final one, sent from Ms.
Rossi's device tonight, reads: *It's done.
She'll lose the baby and you'll lose her.
Then we can finally be finished with this.*"
The room went completely still.
Richard turned slowly toward Marcus.
"She told you what she was planning," Richard said.
It wasn't a question.
"No." Marcus's voice had gone hollow.
"I didn't see that message.
I haven't opened the thread in six weeks.
I blocked her number on my main phone.
The private line — I stopped checking it."
"But she still had access."
"Yes."
Richard picked up his own phone.
He dialed without looking away from Marcus.
"Grace," he said when the call connected.
"I need you to contact the DA's office tonight.
Yes, tonight.
Tell them we have documented evidence of premeditated assault on a pregnant woman, prior written intent, and a potential blackmail case." He listened for a moment.
"No.
Don't wait until morning."
He ended the call.
Marcus hadn't moved.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"Now," Richard said, "you tell Khloe everything you just told me.
Every word.
Tonight."
"She won't want to see me."
"No," Richard agreed.
May you like
"She won't." He walked to the door and held it open.
"Go anyway."
