Chapter 2 - The Uncle's Arrival
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Before Marcus could demand an explanation for the glaring inconsistencies, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the suite. The door, already ajar, burst open completely.
Dr. Nathan Caldwell, the chief of staff, entered first, his face pale and serious. He was closely followed by two trauma nurses pushing a specialized emergency stretcher. Close behind them, moving with an imposing, unhurried authority, came a tall silver-haired man in a charcoal suit.
His expression hardened the instant he saw Khloe on the floor.
"Move," David Sterling ordered.
It wasn't a request. No one questioned him. The nurses immediately parted to let him through.
Marcus looked up in surprise, momentarily forgetting his anger. "Uncle David..."
David Sterling knelt beside his niece, the immaculate crease in his trousers ignored. His calm demeanor, a trademark he had cultivated for decades, slipped for the first time in recent memory. As chairman of Sterling Medical Group—the company that owned the hospital where the gala was being held—he had spent his entire career making impossible, life-or-death decisions with unwavering composure.
Now, looking at his niece, his hands trembled slightly.
"Khloe," David said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Can you hear me, sweetheart?"
Khloe nodded once, a tiny, jerky movement, before another wave of pain washed over her, stealing her breath and forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.
Dr. Caldwell didn't waste time. He quickly and efficiently examined her, his hands moving with practiced precision.
"We're taking her to Obstetric Emergency immediately," Dr. Caldwell announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We need an ultrasound and a full trauma workup, now."
"Is my baby..." Khloe whispered, her voice cracking with pure terror.
"We're going to do everything we can, Khloe," Dr. Caldwell reassured her, signaling the nurses. "Just stay as still as possible."
The medical team carefully, smoothly lifted her onto the stretcher. Marcus never let go of her hand, walking closely beside the gurney as they moved toward the door.
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As they wheeled her out toward the private executive elevator, David remained behind in the suite. He slowly turned toward Isabella, who was still hovering near the overturned chair, her fake tears drying up as she realized the dynamic in the room had shifted violently against her.
"You should stay exactly where you are," David said. His voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet. It was the tone he used right before destroying a rival corporation.
