Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Marble
The cold stone of the Montgomery County Courthouse stairs soaked through Harrison Cole’s tailored suit as he knelt in his sister’s blood.
Around them, the world fell apart in screams, gasps, and the frantic clatter of bailiffs running down the plaza. Sirens wailed in the distance—a sharp, piercing howl cutting through the humid morning air.
Harrison didn't look at the crowd. He didn't look at the news cameras that had been gathered to cover the opening arguments of the Harrington divorce.
His focus was entirely on Khloe.
Her face was as white as paper. The navy maternity dress was soaked around her stomach, the dark wool clinging heavily to her pale skin. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of quiet warmth, were half-closed, staring vacantly at the overcast sky.
"Stay with me, Khloe," Harrison said, his voice dropping into a register so dark and quiet it scared the bailiff who knelt beside him. "Look at my face. You look at me, Khloe."
"Harry..." she gasped, her chest rising in ragged, shallow hitches. "My baby... I can't feel... I can't feel her kicking..."
"She's fine," Harrison lied, his voice never trembling despite the sudden, suffocating knot in his throat. "She's fine. The paramedics are right here."
Four paramedics rushed down the steps with a stretcher and a trauma kit. Hands pulled Harrison back, but he didn't move far—he kept one blood-stained hand firmly on Khloe's wrist until they lifted her onto the board.
As they rolled the stretcher toward the waiting ambulance, Harrison finally stood up.
His tall frame towered over the crowd. His gray eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were completely stripped of mercy.
He turned slowly and looked up the thirty marble steps.
At the top stood Vanessa Kensington, her designer handbag clutched against her chest, her expensive silk blouse rumpled. Beside her, Richard Harrington looked down at the blood on the stairs, his face pale, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to adjust his silk tie but couldn't bring himself to move.
Richard met Harrison’s gaze for a fraction of a second.
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The fear that seized Richard in that moment was not the fear of an angry brother; it was the primitive terror of a man who suddenly realized he had stepped into the cage of an apex predator.
Harrison pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket, slowly wiping his sister's blood from his palms. He didn't say a word. He didn't shout. He simply watched Richard and Vanessa until the ambulance doors slammed shut behind him, and then he stepped inside.
