Chapter 3 - THE TRAP CLOSES
Back in Lake Oswego, Reid Halstead had laughed when he found the note.
Standing in his empty kitchen, reading “Do not try to find us,” Reid poured himself a glass of whiskey and scoffed. Where could she possibly go? She had no independent bank accounts, no legal representation, and no concept of how the real world worked. He assumed she was cowering at some cheap motel, waiting to beg for money.
He called Morgan Vance into his office later that morning.
"Did she sign the final paperwork before she ran off?" Reid asked, sitting behind his grand mahogany desk.
Morgan frowned, tapping away on her tablet. "That’s the strange thing, Reid. The digital signature hasn't been logged yet. But it doesn't matter. We filed the emergency petition for sole custody this morning based on the fabricated psychological evaluations. With your mother's testimony and my legal filing, the judge will sign off by tomorrow afternoon ex parte. She won't even have a chance to defend herself."
Reid smiled, feeling a surge of absolute triumph. "Good. Cut off her credit cards. Make sure she realizes how helpless she is. Once she’s broken, she’ll hand over the boy without a fight, and we can move forward cleanly."
Neither Reid nor Morgan had any idea that Marcus Vance had already filed an emergency motion to quash their petition, backed by a federal injunction, an independent forensic audit of the Halstead estate's hidden assets, and the explosive audio recording.
The trap wasn't waiting for Brooke. It was waiting for them.
Two days later, an official summons was delivered directly to Reid’s office at Halstead Global Enterprises, and another to Celia Halstead’s sprawling mansion. It wasn't a standard family court summons. It was an order to appear before Judge Thomas Henderson for an emergency evidentiary hearing regarding allegations of fraud, perjury, conspiracy, and malicious manipulation of the judicial process.
When Reid called his mother in a panic, Celia brushed it off with a haughty laugh.
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"Relax, Reid," Celia’s voice crackled over the phone line. "Judge Henderson dines at our country club every weekend. This is just a minor temper tantrum by a desperate, unstable woman. We will crush her in court by noon tomorrow."
Confidence blinded them. They walked into the Multnomah County Courthouse on Friday morning like royalty attending a social gala, entirely unaware that the floor beneath their feet had already been blown away.
