Chapter 3 - The Fall on the Marble
The world seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl.
Khloe felt her foot slip on the edge of the top step.
She reached out, her fingers desperately clawing at the empty air, trying to find purchase. Her eyes locked onto Richard’s. For a fraction of a second, she saw a flicker of horror in his eyes—but he didn't reach out to grab her. He didn't move a single muscle.
Then, gravity took over.
Khloe tumbled backward.
The physical shock of the first impact was deafening. Her shoulder slammed against the hard, unforgiving marble of the seventeenth step. The air was violently forced from her lungs.
The baby, her mind screamed. Protect the baby.
She curled her body into a frantic, instinctive fetal position, wrapping her arms tightly over her abdomen as she continued to spin out of control down the grand staircase. Each step was a brutal, bone-crushing blow.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Horrified screams erupted from the plaza below. Attorneys dropped their briefcases. Courthouse security guards began to run.
But to Khloe, everything was silent. She could only hear the sound of her own heartbeat, slowing down, fading.
When her body finally came to a halt at the bottom of the thirty-step staircase, she lay twisted against the cold marble landing. For a moment, she couldn't feel anything.
Then, the pain came.
It was a sharp, tearing agony that bloomed from her lower back and ripped through her abdomen. She gasped, a choked, desperate sound escaping her throat. She looked down at her hands. They were covered in dark, viscous blood.
The navy blue of her maternity dress was rapidly turning black as a pool of crimson began to spread across the pristine white marble.
"Khloe!"
A voice tore through the chaos. It wasn't Richard's.
A man dropped to his knees beside her so violently that his knees cracked against the stone, his palms tearing open as he slid into the blood.
Harrison.
His face, usually an unreadable mask of professional composure, was completely shattered. His eyes were wide with a raw, primal terror.
"Harry..." Khloe whispered. Her vision was beginning to vignette, the edges of the world turning fuzzy and dark.
"I’m here. I’m right here," Harrison choked out. He pulled off his expensive tailored suit jacket, pressing it firmly between her legs to try and stem the flow of blood. His hands, usually so steady, were shaking uncontrollably. "Keep your eyes on me, Khloe. Keep your eyes on me!"
"The baby..." she cried, her voice barely a whisper. She gripped his lapel, her bloody fingers leaving dark prints on his white shirt. "Harry... please. Save my baby."
"I will. I promise you, I will," Harrison whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion he hadn't shown in decades.
Khloe’s hand lost its strength. Her fingers slipped from his collar, falling limply onto the blood-slicked stone. Her eyes fluttered shut.
"Khloe! Khloe, look at me!" Harrison roared.
But she was gone.
Harrison slowly rose to his feet. The frantic shouts of paramedics approaching in the distance felt miles away. He looked down at his hands, covered in his sister’s blood.
Then, he turned his head and looked up the stairs.
Vanessa Kensington stood on the top landing, her hands still partially extended. All the color had drained from her face, leaving her a ghostly, trembling white.
Beside her, Richard stood paralyzed, staring at the pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. He made no move to run down. He made no move to help.
Harrison did not scream. He did not run up the steps to attack them.
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Instead, he stood perfectly still in the center of the bloody plaza. His eyes locked onto Richard and Vanessa with a calm so absolute, so profoundly icy, that it sent a visible shudder through Richard’s frame.
It was the look of a man who had just crossed a line from which there was no return.
