Marcus Thorne stared at the glowing monitor in the secure control room, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the desk. Beside him stood Dr. Arthur Vance—Khloe’s uncle and the chief of hospital security—whose cold eyes never left the screen.

"He can't hear you, Arthur," Marcus’s voice echoed over the radio speakers. "I remotely overrode your flight control systems ten minutes ago. Your pilot is sitting in a locked cockpit watching a dead screen. I am flying your helicopter from my command center."

The helicopter began to descend rapidly, dropping through the clouds toward a massive, illuminated aircraft carrier sitting in the middle of international waters.

"You can't touch me, Marcus!" Arthur screamed into the radio. "If this chopper crashes, Khloe dies! Your multi-billion-dollar project dies with her!"

"I know," Marcus replied calmly over the intercom. "That's why I'm landing you safely on my ship."

Arthur turned to Khloe, his eyes crazed with desperation. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward the door. "If I go down, you go down with me!"

"Let go of me!" Khloe screamed.

Using every ounce of strength she had left, Khloe swung her elbow backward, striking Arthur squarely in the nose. Blood exploded from his face. He stumbled backward, dropping his gun onto the helicopter floor.

Khloe kicked the gun under the seats just as the helicopter hit the helipad of the aircraft carrier with a heavy THUD.

The side doors of the helicopter were instantly ripped open from the outside.

A dozen heavily armed tactical soldiers flooded the cabin, grabbing Arthur Vance and slamming him face-first onto the deck floor, pinning his arms behind his back.

Standing behind the soldiers, completely untouched by the FTC arrest, was Marcus Thorne.

He wore a dark tactical coat, his hair wet from the rain, his eyes fierce and intense. He stepped into the helicopter, extending a hand down toward Khloe.

Khloe looked at his outstretched hand, then up into his eyes.

She was exhausted. Her body was beaten, her mind shattered by endless layers of deception. She didn't know who to trust. Her husband was a ruthless billionaire who had manipulated her biology; her uncle was a monster who had treated her like cattle.

"Khloe," Marcus said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it before. "It's over. Get up."

Khloe didn't take his hand. She pushed herself up on her own, standing tall despite the weakness in her legs.

"Is it over, Marcus?" Khloe asked, her voice cold as ice. "Or is this just stage two of your master plan?"

Marcus lowered his hand, staring at her solemnly. "You have every right to hate me, Khloe. But I never lied about one thing."

"And what's that?"

Marcus stepped closer, looking down at her stomach, then into her eyes. "I never intended to hurt you. Everything I did—even letting Arthur believe he was winning—was to bring him into the open so I could destroy him forever."

Arthur, pinned to the floor under a soldier's boot, spat blood onto the deck and laughed maniacally. "You're too late, Thorne! The genetic data! I already transmitted it to the syndicate before we took off! By tomorrow, ten different laboratories will be replicating the sequence!"

Marcus didn't even look down at Arthur. He simply pulled a small remote detonator from his pocket and pressed a single red button.

"You transmitted the file from my secondary server, Arthur," Marcus said quietly. "Which contained a self-replicating digital virus. Three minutes ago, that virus completely wiped the servers of every syndicate member who received your transmission."

Arthur’s laughter stopped instantly. His eyes filled with pure terror. "No... no, that's impossible!"

"Take him below deck," Marcus ordered the soldiers. "Hand him over to international authorities."