Chapter 10 - THE ESTATE
Police surrounded the Harrington estate just before dawn.
The mansion sat behind iron gates and acres of dark lawn, every window glowing.
Richard’s mother, Evelyn Harrington, stood on the front steps in a silk robe, furious that anyone dared disturb her.
“You cannot enter without a warrant.”
Morales held it up. “We have kidnapping, attempted murder, conspiracy, and enough financial crimes to wallpaper your ballroom.”
Evelyn’s eyes shifted toward Harrison. “This family welcomed your sister.”
“This family hunted her.”
Officers searched the mansion room by room.
They found the stolen trust documents in Richard’s study.
They found passports for Richard, Vanessa, and the baby in a locked drawer.
They found a nursery prepared in the east wing.
But they did not find the child.
A soft electronic beep came from behind the library wall.
Harrison pressed the carved panel. It opened into a hidden elevator.
Below the mansion was a private medical suite—oxygen tanks, monitors, refrigerated medication, and a crib beneath a heating lamp.
The baby lay inside.
Alive.
A man in scrubs stood over her with a syringe.
Morales raised her weapon. “Put it down.”
He froze.
Harrison moved toward the crib.
The baby made a weak crying sound, and relief nearly crushed him.
Then Richard stepped out from behind a curtain holding a pistol.
“Back away from her,” he said.
Harrison turned slowly.
Richard looked exhausted, cornered, and more dangerous than ever.
“You kidnapped your own daughter,” Harrison said.
“I protected my heir.”
“She is not an asset.”
“To you, maybe. To the trust, she is control.”
Morales kept her gun trained on him. “Put the weapon down.”
Richard pressed the barrel against the oxygen line.
“One shot,” he said, “and this room becomes a bomb.”
Harrison looked at the baby, then at the syringe in the therapist’s hand.
“What were you giving her?”
“A sedative,” the man said. “Only to keep her quiet.”
Richard’s attention shifted for half a second.
Harrison lunged.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck the ceiling. Morales tackled the therapist while Harrison drove Richard into the wall. The oxygen alarm screamed.
Richard swung the pistol toward the crib.
Harrison caught his wrist.
They fought beside the fragile life both men claimed to protect for entirely different reasons.
Then Richard smiled through the struggle.
“You still don’t understand,” he gasped. “I’m not the one who ordered Khloe killed.”
May you like
A second gun clicked behind Harrison.
Evelyn Harrington stood in the doorway.
