CHAPTER 4 — THE MISSING MINUTE
CHAPTER 4 — THE MISSING MINUTE
At 2:07 in the morning, every screen in the security room went black.
Not all at once.
One after another.
Camera 3.
Camera 7.
Camera 11.
Then Camera 14.
Nathan stared at the monitors.
“That shouldn't happen.”
Marcus stood behind him.
“What?”
Nathan didn't answer.
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.
The system rejected his password.
He tried again.
Denied.
He looked at Marcus.
“Someone is inside the system.”
Marcus's face hardened.
“From outside?”
Nathan shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed toward the security server.
“From inside the hospital.”
THE MISSING MINUTE
By morning, the hospital had become a fortress.
Security officers guarded every entrance.
Visitors were searched.
Employees were questioned.
The media had been pushed several blocks away.
But none of it mattered.
Because the damage had already been done.
Someone had deleted exactly sixty-three seconds of security footage.
Sixty-three seconds.
Not sixty.
Not sixty-five.
Exactly sixty-three.
Nathan replayed the recording.
The footage showed Isabella entering Khloe's suite.
Then—
static.
The screen jumped forward.
Isabella was already standing over Khloe.
The attack was partially visible.
But the crucial moment—
the moment before Isabella kicked Khloe—
was gone.
Marcus stared at the screen.
“Can you recover it?”
Nathan didn't answer.
“Can you?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you could.”
“I said I could recover deleted footage.”
He paused.
“This wasn't deleted.”
Marcus frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Nathan zoomed in.
“Look.”
The timestamp continued normally.
No gap.
No corrupted frame.
No system error.
Marcus leaned closer.
“The clock didn't stop.”
“No.”
“Then how did they remove the footage?”
Nathan looked at him.
“Someone replaced it.”
SOMEONE WITH ACCESS
Khloe sat in the hospital bed, pale but awake.
She listened as Nathan explained.
“Only twelve people have access to the raw security archive.”
“Who?”
Nathan listed them.
“The hospital director.”
“The chief security officer.”
“The IT administrator.”
“Two senior technicians.”
“Three night supervisors.”
“The emergency department administrator.”
“The head of medical records.”
“And three members of the board.”
Khloe frowned.
“That's too many.”
Nathan nodded.
“Exactly.”
Marcus asked:
“Which one was working last night?”
Nathan opened the staff schedule.
His finger stopped.
“One.”
“Who?”
Nathan looked up.
“Dr. Eleanor Vane.”
Khloe's expression changed.
“I know her.”
Marcus looked at her.
“How?”
“She was assigned to my pregnancy.”
Nathan stared.
“Your obstetrician?”
Khloe nodded.
“She was the one who examined me after the attack.”
Marcus looked uneasy.
“Did she seem strange?”
Khloe thought for a moment.
“She was nervous.”
“How?”
“She kept asking whether I remembered anything.”
Nathan's eyes narrowed.
“Anything specific?”
Khloe looked at him.
“She asked whether Isabella had said anything before the attack.”
Silence.
Nathan slowly closed the laptop.
“That wasn't a medical question.”
THE DOCTOR
Dr. Eleanor Vane was fifty-two.
Highly respected.
Twenty-five years of experience.
No disciplinary record.
No financial scandals.
No suspicious connections.
On paper, she was perfect.
Too perfect.
Nathan watched her through the security monitors.
She walked down the corridor carrying a medical file.
Calm.
Professional.
Ordinary.
Marcus stood beside him.
“She doesn't look guilty.”
Nathan didn't look away.
“Neither did Isabella.”
Dr. Vane entered Khloe's room.
Khloe immediately noticed the tension.
“Doctor.”
“Mrs. Thorne.”
Dr. Vane smiled.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Good.”
She checked the monitor.
Then the baby's heartbeat.
Everything appeared normal.
But Khloe noticed something.
The doctor's hands were shaking.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Khloe watched her.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“Were you working last night?”
The doctor paused.
“Yes.”
“During the attack?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Did you see Isabella?”
Dr. Vane looked at her.
“No.”
Khloe's heart sank.
“But you examined me afterward.”
“Yes.”
“So you came immediately.”
“Yes.”
Khloe stared.
“Who called you?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Emergency staff.”
“Which staff member?”
Dr. Vane looked toward the door.
“I don't remember.”
Khloe knew she was lying.
She didn't know how.
But she knew.
THE QUESTION
After Dr. Vane left, Khloe looked at Marcus.
“She knows something.”
Marcus nodded.
“I think so.”
Nathan entered.
“Don't confront her.”
Khloe frowned.
“Why?”
“Because if she is involved, she will destroy the evidence.”
“What if she isn't?”
“Then we'll know.”
“How?”
Nathan placed a small recorder on the table.
“I asked her one question.”
“What question?”
“Who accessed the archive at 1:43 a.m.?”
Khloe stared.
“And?”
“She said nobody.”
Nathan smiled.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because someone did.”
He opened a log.
“An administrator account accessed the security server at 1:43.”
Marcus looked at the name.
ELEANOR VANE.
Khloe's stomach tightened.
“No.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You trust her?”
Khloe swallowed.
“She saved my baby last night.”
Nathan nodded.
“Maybe.”
Khloe looked at him.
“Maybe?”
He pointed to the log.
“Or maybe she knew exactly how to make it look like she did.”
THE FIRST CRACK
At 11:30 a.m., Nathan accessed the hospital's internal network.
He found something strange.
A hidden connection.
One device had accessed the security server from a restricted floor.
Floor twenty-seven.
There was no floor twenty-seven.
Marcus frowned.
“What is that?”
Nathan stared at the screen.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“The hospital has twenty-six floors.”
“Then what's twenty-seven?”
Nathan zoomed in.
A hidden network node appeared.
ARCHIVE 27.
Khloe's face went pale.
“What's stored there?”
Nathan didn't answer.
He looked at Marcus.
“Everything the hospital doesn't want people to know exists.”
THE SECRET ARCHIVE
At midnight, Nathan took Marcus and Khloe to the service elevator.
Khloe was still weak.
Marcus wanted her to stay behind.
She refused.
“This started because of me.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
“It will end with me.”
Nathan inserted an access card.
The elevator moved upward.
Past twenty-six.
Khloe stared at the display.
There was no number.
Only a blank line.
The elevator doors opened.
A dark corridor stretched ahead.
No signs.
No cameras.
No staff.
Nathan whispered:
“Welcome to Archive 27.”
Marcus looked around.
“This isn't on the building plans.”
“No.”
“Who built it?”
Nathan shook his head.
“I don't know.”
They walked deeper.
At the end of the corridor was a steel door.
Nathan opened it.
Inside were rows of servers.
Hundreds of them.
Marcus stared.
“Why would a hospital need this?”
“It doesn't.”
Nathan walked toward the main terminal.
He connected his drive.
The screen lit up.
Folders appeared.
Patient files.
Financial records.
Security footage.
Insurance claims.
Private communications.
And one folder marked:
THORNE — CONFIDENTIAL.
Marcus froze.
“Open it.”
Nathan hesitated.
Then clicked.
Inside were dozens of documents.
The oldest dated back twenty-three years.
The newest—
three days ago.
Khloe looked at the screen.
“What is that?”
Nathan opened the newest file.
A photograph appeared.
Khloe.
Pregnant.
Leaving her home.
Taken from across the street.
The date was yesterday.
Marcus's face darkened.
“Someone has been following her.”
Nathan nodded.
“Not just following.”
He opened another file.
A complete medical history.
Another.
Financial records.
Another.
Travel records.
Another.
A list of people Khloe had contacted.
Khloe stared.
“They've been monitoring me.”
“For how long?”
Nathan looked at the dates.
“Three years.”
Khloe felt cold.
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
THE NAME
Then Nathan found something worse.
A payment ledger.
Monthly transfers.
$15,000.
$20,000.
$30,000.
All sent to the same account.
The recipient name:
E. VANE.
Marcus stared.
“Dr. Vane.”
Nathan nodded.
Khloe closed her eyes.
“No.”
Marcus looked at her.
“She betrayed you.”
Khloe shook her head.
“She helped me.”
“Maybe that's why she was trusted.”
Khloe opened her eyes.
“Why would she help Isabella?”
Nathan pointed to the ledger.
“She wasn't paid by Isabella.”
Marcus looked closer.
“Then who?”
Nathan followed the account trail.
The money had passed through six companies.
Seven offshore accounts.
Then finally—
one private foundation.
Marcus's blood ran cold.
“The Thorne Foundation.”
Nathan nodded.
Khloe whispered:
“My family?”
“Someone inside it.”
THE SECOND RECORDING
Nathan found another file.
It was labeled:
PATIENT ROOM 417 — AUDIO.
He opened it.
Dr. Vane's voice appeared.
“She doesn't know.”
A man's voice answered.
“Does she suspect?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“What about the baby?”
Silence.
Then:
“The child must be born alive.”
Khloe covered her mouth.
Marcus looked at Nathan.
“Why?”
The man's voice continued.
“Because the trust cannot be transferred before birth.”
Dr. Vane asked:
“And after?”
“The mother becomes unnecessary.”
The recording ended.
Marcus's fists clenched.
Khloe began shaking.
“They're planning to kill me.”
Nathan nodded.
“But that's not the worst part.”
“What?”
Nathan opened another file.
A legal document.
The trust's succession clause.
Khloe's name.
Then her child's.
Then—
another name.
Marcus read it.
His face went white.
“That's impossible.”
Nathan looked at him.
“What?”
Marcus pointed.
“My father.”
Nathan stared.
The document listed Marcus's dead father as the ultimate beneficiary.
Khloe whispered:
“Your father?”
Marcus shook his head.
“He died years ago.”
Nathan stared at the document.
“Maybe not.”
THE WOMAN IN THE HALLWAY
A noise came from outside.
Footsteps.
Nathan immediately shut down the terminal.
Marcus moved in front of Khloe.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Nathan slowly opened the door.
Nobody.
Only an empty hallway.
Then he noticed something on the floor.
A hospital identification badge.
He picked it up.
It belonged to—
Dr. Eleanor Vane.
Marcus stared.
“She was here.”
Nathan nodded.
“But why would she leave her badge?”
Khloe looked down the corridor.
“Maybe she wanted us to find it.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Why?”
Khloe's voice was barely audible.
“Because she's scared.”
THE DOCTOR'S CONFESSION
They found Dr. Vane in the parking garage.
She was sitting alone inside her car.
Crying.
Nathan approached first.
She immediately locked the doors.
“Leave me alone.”
Khloe stepped forward.
“Doctor.”
Dr. Vane looked at her.
Her face collapsed.
“I am so sorry.”
Khloe froze.
“Why?”
“I didn't know how to stop them.”
“Who?”
Dr. Vane looked at Marcus.
“Your family.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“My family?”
She nodded.
“Your father started it.”
“He's dead.”
“I know.”
“Then who is controlling you?”
Dr. Vane shook her head.
“I can't say.”
“Why?”
“Because they'll kill my son.”
Silence.
Khloe moved closer.
“Your son?”
“He's seventeen.”
Dr. Vane wiped her tears.
“They took him three years ago.”
Marcus's expression changed.
“Who?”
“People who work for the Thorne family.”
Nathan's jaw tightened.
“What do they want?”
Dr. Vane looked at Khloe.
“You.”
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MISSING MINUTE
Dr. Vane finally confessed.
She had deleted the sixty-three seconds.
But not because she wanted Isabella to escape.
She had been ordered to do it.
“They told me if I didn't…”
She couldn't finish.
Khloe asked:
“What was in those sixty-three seconds?”
Dr. Vane looked at her.
“Someone else entered the room.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I never saw his face.”
“What did he do?”
“He placed something beside your bed.”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
“A small black case.”
Nathan's expression changed.
“Where is it?”
Dr. Vane shook her head.
“Isabella took it.”
“What was inside?”
Dr. Vane whispered:
“Your baby's DNA results.”
Khloe's blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because they were planning to change them.”
Marcus stared.
“To make it look like the baby wasn't mine.”
Dr. Vane nodded.
“But that's not all.”
She looked at Khloe.
“They already had another DNA sample.”
“Whose?”
Dr. Vane began crying again.
“Your mother's.”
Khloe froze.
“My mother died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
Dr. Vane looked at Nathan.
He suddenly understood.
“Your mother didn't die twelve years ago.”
Khloe stared.
“What?”
Nathan's voice was barely a whisper.
“The woman buried under your mother's name…”
He paused.
“…may not have been your mother.”
THE LAST SIXTY-THREE SECONDS
Nathan recovered a fragment from the deleted footage.
Only eight seconds.
But it was enough.
The screen showed the hospital room.
Khloe was on the floor.
Isabella stood beside her.
Then—
a shadow entered.
The figure bent down.
Placed a black case beside Khloe.
Then looked directly toward the camera.
For one second, the face was visible.
Marcus stepped closer.
Nathan froze.
Khloe whispered:
“Who is that?”
Marcus couldn't answer.
Because the man in the footage was someone he had seen before.
At his father's funeral.
At his wedding.
At family dinners.
At charity events.
The man everyone believed was dead.
Adrian Thorne.
Marcus's uncle.
Nathan's brother.
The man who had supposedly disappeared twenty-four years ago.
Nathan stared at the screen.
His voice broke.
“He found us.”
THE FINAL CALL
At 3:03 a.m., Marcus's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
Then a man's voice.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Did you enjoy the archive?”
Marcus froze.
“Adrian.”
A soft laugh.
“You always were clever.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
“Stay away from my wife.”
Another laugh.
“You still don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
“The missing minute wasn't deleted to hide my face.”
Marcus went silent.
“Then why?”
“To hide hers.”
Marcus looked at Khloe.
“What are you talking about?”
Adrian's voice became quieter.
“Ask your wife what happened twenty-three years ago.”
The call ended.
Marcus lowered the phone.
Khloe stared at him.
“What did he say?”
Marcus didn't answer.
Because Nathan was already looking at Khloe.
And for the first time since the night of the attack—
Nathan looked terrified of the answer.
Khloe touched her stomach.
“What happened twenty-three years ago?”
Nathan slowly shook his head.
“I don't know.”
But deep inside, he did.
Or at least—
he feared he did.
Because twenty-three years ago, on the night Khloe was born, Nathan had witnessed something he had spent his entire life trying to forget.
And now someone had deleted sixty-three seconds of footage for one reason.
Not to hide Isabella.
Not to hide Adrian.
But to hide the truth about Khloe herself.
The missing minute had not erased the crime.
It had erased the identity of the victim.
And tomorrow—
May you like
Khloe would learn that the woman she had spent her entire life calling Mother
might never have been her mother at all.
