Chapter 3 - The Viper in RedThe VIP suite was supposed to be a safe haven. It was a sprawling room with heavy oak doors, plush white carpets, and a view of the glittering city skyline. I kicked off my heels, poured myself a glass of iced water from the crystal pitcher on the table, and sank into the sofa. For ten minutes, there was peace.
Then, the door clicked open.
I expected room service, or perhaps Elaine, the gala coordinator. Instead, Isabella stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, the heavy latch sealing us in. The scent of her expensive perfume flooded the room—a cloying sweetness that smelled like decay. The polite corporate charm she wore downstairs was gone.
“You were supposed to stay quiet, Khloe,” Isabella hissed, stepping closer. “You were supposed to smile for the cameras, have the baby, take your settlement, and disappear into some quiet countryside estate where nobody would have to look at you anymore.”
May you like
I stood up, my maternal instincts flaring into high alert. I tightened my hand protectively over my swollen belly, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “Get out of this room. Right now, Isabella. You’ve overplayed your hand. If Marcus sees you—”
She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Marcus isn't coming for you.”
