Chapter 4
The second voice note described the luncheon terrace.
I remembered that incident too.
Khloe had nearly fallen when one leg of her chair folded beneath her. The chair was removed before I arrived. Everyone blamed event staff.
Now Victor’s voice came through the phone.
“Terrace was too public.”
Isabella answered, “She still went down.”
“Not hard enough.”
Khloe’s hand moved over her belly.
I stopped the audio.
“That chair,” I said. “Who replaced it?”
Elaine looked at Isabella.
I did not need another answer.
Isabella crossed her arms.
“You’re acting as if Khloe has never fallen before.”
I stared at her.
“She is seven months pregnant.”
“Exactly.”
The word landed wrong.
I narrowed my eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Isabella’s expression changed.
Victor looked toward her.
Neither spoke.
I stepped closer.
“You didn’t start this because she was pregnant.”
Still nothing.
“You started because of what the pregnancy means.”
Khloe looked at me.
The same thought had reached her.
The organization had accepted Khloe as my wife.
A child changed something else.
It made temporary relationships permanent.
Isabella laughed softly.
“You finally see it.”
“Say it.”
“She changed everything.”
Khloe stared at her.
Isabella looked at my wife with open contempt now.
“Before her, every captain knew whose counsel you listened to.”
I remained still.
“After her?”
“You started asking what Khloe thought.”
“That bothers you?”
“It weakens you.”
I almost smiled.
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“She walked into a family she never built, got pregnant, and suddenly everybody acts like she has roots.”
Khloe looked exhausted more than angry.
That hurt Isabella.
I could see it.
She wanted fear.
Jealousy.
Rage.
Anything that proved she still mattered enough to wound.
I looked at Victor.
“And you?”
He shrugged.
“She’s my sister.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
His eyes moved toward Khloe.
Then back to me.
“If Isabella loses influence, so do I.”
There it was.
Not jealousy alone.
Position.
May you like
The pregnancy had not made them afraid of a baby.
It made them afraid of becoming unnecessary.
