Chapter 7 - The Pressure MountsBy the following week, the pressure on the Harrington family had become unbearable.
The shares of Harrington Commercial Group had plummeted sixty percent following Richard’s arrest, and the firm’s board of directors had voted to remove him as CEO. The private loans from the Moretti family were calling, and without Khloe’s trust fund to pay them, the firm was facing immediate bankruptcy.
Richard sat in the small, glass-walled visiting room of the federal detention center, his face pale, his suit crumpled and stained, his hair messy.
The door opened, and Harrison Cole walked in.
He was wearing a dark, tailored suit, his bandaged hands resting neatly on his lap, his face a calm, unreadable mask of absolute authority. He sat across from Richard, not offering his hand, his cold, pale eyes fixing him to his chair.
"Harry," Richard began, his voice carrying a defensive, whiny edge. "You have to help me. The Morettis... they're calling the loans. If I don't pay them by Friday, they're going to come after me. They're going to kill me, Harry."
Harrison didn't flinch. He leaned forward, his shadow falling over the table.
"I know," Harrison said quietly.
"You... you know?" Richard stammered, his eyes wide with shock.
"I bought the debt, Richard," Harrison said, his voice a low vibration that made the glass windows of the room seem to hum. "My firm’s investment branch acquired your private loans from the Moretti family on Monday morning. I paid them three million dollars in cash to transfer the deeds of Harrington Commercial properties to Cole & Associates."
Richard stared at him, his jaw trembling, his eyes filled with a desperate, aristocratic madness as he realized that his entire life had just been purchased by his brother-in-law.
"You... you own me," Richard whispered.
"I own your firm, your houses, your cars, and the clothes you are wearing, Richard," Harrison said, his voice dropping into that quiet, absolute register. "And on Friday morning, I am going to file for bankruptcy on your behalf. You will walk out of this prison with nothing but the clothes on your back and the name your father gave you."
He stood up slowly, his tall figure casting a long, dark shadow across the small room.
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"If you want to survive the next ten years in prison, Richard," Harrison said, looking down at him, "I suggest you tell the prosecutor everything about Vanessa's plans for the trust. Because if you don't, I will make sure you share a cell with the people you owe money to."
He turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Richard's frantic, sobbing pleas that rose behind him, his dark coat flying behind him like a shield.
