Chapter 10 - LOCKDOWN
Harrison reached the hospital with federal agents behind him.
Every exit had been sealed.
Police filled the lobby.
Khloe was in a wheelchair outside the NICU.
Barefoot.
Still wearing her hospital gown.
Harrison ran toward her.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Khloe was shaking violently.
“The alarm went off.”
“The nurses moved.”
“The lights flickered.”
“Then she was gone.”
Harrison crouched in front of her.
“Look at me.”
Khloe tried.
“We’re getting her back.”
“What if—”
“We are getting her back.”
He stood.
Mercer approached.
“We have footage.”
They entered the security office.
At 4:12 p.m., a nurse entered the private NICU suite.
She carried Khloe’s daughter out in a transport bassinet.
“Who is she?”
“Not a nurse.”
“Identity?”
“Badge belongs to Dr. Elaine Morris.”
“Where’s Morris?”
“Home sick.”
Harrison watched the woman move through the hallway.
Then she removed her mask.
Khloe gasped.
Harrison stared.
He knew her.
Vanessa’s mother.
Patricia Kensington.
Khloe whispered.
“Why would she take my baby?”
Mercer was already issuing an alert.
Then Harrison remembered something.
“Vanessa said Richard threatened to take her baby.”
Mercer looked at him.
“Maybe he wasn’t talking about Vanessa’s pregnancy.”
Khloe stared.
“What?”
Harrison’s mind raced.
Richard knew the baby was a girl.
Richard had access to fertility records.
Harrington Medical Ventures had purchased Khloe’s clinic.
Someone had preserved an embryo supposedly destroyed.
Why?
Daniel called.
“I found the donor.”
Harrison froze.
“What?”
“The anonymous sperm donor connected to Khloe’s embryo.”
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Who?”
“Charles Harrington.”
Silence.
Khloe stared at Harrison.
Harrison almost dropped the phone.
Richard’s father.
Khloe’s daughter was biologically the child of Khloe—
And Charles Harrington.
Which meant genetically—
Richard’s newborn legal daughter was also his biological half-sister.
Khloe covered her mouth.
“No.”
Harrison struggled to process it.
“Why would Charles donate sperm?”
“He didn’t.”
Daniel continued.
“The clinic records were manipulated.”
“Someone used stored genetic material from a Harrington medical screening.”
Khloe began crying.
“Why?”
Harrison suddenly understood.
Inheritance.
Charles Harrington’s trust.
He looked at Khloe.
“Richard’s father’s estate.”
“What about it?”
“Who inherits if another biological child exists?”
Khloe stared at him.
Harrison called his office.
“Get me Charles Harrington’s trust.”
His associate called back twelve minutes later.
The answer was devastating.
Charles Harrington had established a dynastic trust.
Any biological child of Charles was entitled to an equal share.
Richard currently controlled almost everything.
But if Khloe’s baby was proven biologically Charles Harrington’s child—
Richard could lose hundreds of millions.
Khloe whispered.
“He knew.”
Harrison nodded.
“That’s why he needed the embryo gone.”
“And when it wasn’t?”
“He needed the baby gone.”
Khloe started shaking.
Harrison grabbed her hands.
“We’ll find her.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman’s voice.
“Harrison?”
“Patricia.”
Khloe looked up.
Harrison put the call on speaker.
“Where is the child?”
Patricia was crying.
“I didn’t know.”
“Where is she?”
“Richard told me she was Vanessa’s.”
Harrison’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“He said Vanessa’s baby had been born early.”
“That Khloe was trying to steal her.”
Vanessa wasn’t even visibly pregnant.
The lie was absurd.
Unless Patricia had been lied to about far more.
“Where are you?”
Patricia whispered.
“I realized something was wrong when I saw the bracelet.”
“What bracelet?”
“The baby’s hospital bracelet.”
Khloe Harrington.
Patricia continued.
“I stopped the car.”
“Where?”
“Route 30.”
“Send your location.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
A man’s voice appeared in the background.
Patricia screamed.
The call disconnected.
Harrison stared at the phone.
Mercer immediately began tracing it.
Thirty seconds later, she looked up.
“We have the location.”
They found Patricia’s car abandoned beside the highway.
Driver door open.
Phone on the ground.
Blood on the steering wheel.
No Patricia.
No baby.
But on the passenger seat—
A handwritten note.
Harrison unfolded it.
Four words.
STOP DIGGING INTO CHARLES.
Khloe read it over his shoulder.
Then she noticed something Harrison hadn’t.
The handwriting.
She knew it.
“That’s Richard.”
Harrison looked at her.
Khloe shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed.
“Richard doesn’t write his R like that.”
Harrison stared at the note.
“Then who?”
May you like
Khloe’s face went pale.
“My father did.”
