Chapter 7
The morning sun brought little comfort to Harrison,
who had stayed awake all night.
He sat at his large wooden desk,
staring at the blank phone screen.
The voice haunted his thoughts,
sounding chillingly familiar yet distant.
He knew he could not involve Khloe,
not after she had finally found peace.
He stood up,
buttoning his dark suit jacket,
and walked to the kitchen.
Khloe was already there,
making breakfast while the baby giggled in her high chair.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air,
creating an illusion of normalcy.
"You look tired,"
Khloe observed,
setting a cup down before him.
"Just thinking about a new case,"
Harrison lied smoothly,
forcing a reassuring smile.
He drank the coffee quickly,
needing the caffeine to clear his mind.
"I have to go to the office early,"
he said,
kissing his niece on the forehead.
"Stay inside today,
alright?"
Khloe looked at him,
her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion.
"Harrison,
is something wrong?"
"Nothing I can't handle,"
he replied,
turning away before she could ask more.
He walked out to his car,
his mind already formulating a plan.
Arriving at his penthouse office,
the staff moved quickly out of his way.
They could recognize his fierce expression,
the one he wore before destruction.
He locked his office door,
shuttering the blinds immediately.
He called his private investigator,
a trusted man named Marcus.
"I need a trace on a number,"
Harrison said without greeting.
"And I need it done within the hour."
He read the numbers aloud,
his voice sharp as glass.
Marcus promised to call back soon,
knowing better than to question Harrison.
Waiting was the hardest part for a man used to action.
He paced the floor,
looking down at the bustling streets below.
His empire was built on corporate victories,
but this was personal.
The courthouse tragedy had been blamed on a lone actor,
but Harrison always suspected a mastermind.
Someone who wanted him broken,
someone who hated his legal victories.
The phone rang,
shattering the tense silence of the room.
"I found the location,"
Marcus reported,
his voice tense.
"It came from a burner phone,
activated near the old docks."
"Keep digging,"
Harrison commanded,
grabbing his keys from the desk.
"Find out who bought it,
and who paid for it."
He rushed down to the garage,
his heart pounding with a mix of anger and focus.
He drove toward the industrial district,
where the old docks lay abandoned.
The air grew thick with the scent of salt and rust.
He parked a block away,
stepping out into the cool air.
He walked cautiously,
his eyes scanning every broken window and empty alley.
This was a dangerous game,
but Harrison refused to be the prey.
He approached an old warehouse,
its doors hanging off their hinges.
Inside,
the shadows were deep and unforgiving.
He took a step forward,
his shoes crunching on broken glass.
Suddenly,
a sound echoed from the darkness behind him.
He turned quickly,
his muscles tense and ready.
A shadow moved,
disappearing into the maze of shipping containers.
"Show yourself,"
Harrison demanded,
his voice echoing off the metal walls.
No one answered,
but the tension in the air was palpable.
May you like
He knew he was being watched,
and the trap was already set.
