Chapter 9: No Way Out
The rain poured down on the tarmac of Teterboro Airport in relentless sheets.
Marcus Thorne stood under the wing of his Gulfstream jet, screaming into his phone. "What do you mean she withdrew the petition?! You’re my lawyers, you work for me! I don't care what my mother said, you file the custody papers!"
“I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne,” the lawyer on the other end said coldly. “Your mother has cut off your retainer. We no longer represent you.”
The line went dead.
Marcus hurled the phone against the side of the jet, shattering the screen. He was out of time. His lawyers had abandoned him. His mother had mysteriously cut ties with him overnight. And an hour ago, a source at the SEC tipped him off that federal agents were drafting a warrant for his arrest regarding the Cayman accounts.
"Mr. Thorne, we have to board," the pilot called out from the cabin steps. "Air traffic control is threatening to ground us due to the storm."
"Get the engines ready!" Marcus barked, grabbing his duffel bag full of pawned cash and bearer bonds. He was fleeing to a non-extradition country. Let Khloe have the company. He would rebuild. He was a Thorne.
As he turned toward the stairs, a pair of headlights cut through the heavy rain, blinding him.
A sleek black town car screeched to a halt just yards from the jet.
Marcus froze. The backdoor opened, and an umbrella popped up. Beneath it stepped Khloe, flanked by Elias Vance and two men wearing dark windbreakers with yellow letters printed across the back: FBI.
"Going somewhere, Marcus?" Khloe shouted over the roar of the jet engines and the driving rain.
"You can't stop me!" Marcus yelled, backing up toward the stairs. "I'm leaving! You won, Khloe! You got the money! Just let me go!"
"It was never just about the money, Marcus," Khloe said, stepping forward. "It was about the disrespect. You watched a woman kick me in the stomach, and you told security to delete the tape."
One of the FBI agents stepped forward, producing a badge. "Marcus Thorne, you are under arrest for wire fraud, embezzlement, and attempting to flee federal jurisdiction."
"Wait!" Marcus panicked, holding up his hands. "I can make a deal! Isabella Rossi! She was the mastermind! She forced me to transfer the funds, she was blackmailing me! I'll testify against her!"
Khloe couldn't help but laugh. It was a cold, bitter sound that cut through the storm.
The front door of the town car opened. Out stepped Isabella.
She looked drenched, miserable, and utterly defeated, wearing cheap sweatpants and a raincoat. She glared at Marcus with pure hatred.
"She already beat you to it, Marcus," Khloe smiled. "Isabella came to my office three hours ago. She handed over every text message, every email, and every voice memo of you ordering the wire transfers, in exchange for federal immunity."
Marcus stared at his former mistress in horror.
"You said you'd ruin me," Isabella spat, the rain plastering her hair to her face. "But Khloe offered me a deal. And unlike you, Khloe actually honors her contracts."
The agents moved in, grabbing Marcus by the arms. They slammed him against the side of his own private jet, pulling his hands behind his back. The cold steel of the handcuffs clicked loudly over the sound of the storm.
As they dragged a screaming, thrashing Marcus toward the federal vehicles, Khloe stood beneath her umbrella, watching the man who had tried to destroy her lose everything.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shot through Khloe’s lower back. She gasped, dropping her umbrella.
Elias rushed forward, catching her by the arm. "Khloe! What is it?"
May you like
Khloe looked down. A pool of water had formed at her feet, and it wasn't from the rain.
"The baby," Khloe breathed out, gripping Elias’s coat tightly. "It's time."
