Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs Shut
By Wednesday afternoon, the legal storm broke with the force of a hurricane.
I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria drinking a lukewarm black coffee when my phone buzzed violently against the table. It was an urgent video call from Harrison Vance.
I swiped to answer. Harrison’s office looked like a war room; stacks of legal briefs were piled high on his mahogany desk, and his tie was loosened around his neck. But beneath his professional composure, he looked like a cat that had just swallowed a canary.
“Luca,” Harrison grinned, leaning forward into the camera lens. “The trap is officially sprung. Phase One is complete.”
“Talk to me,” I said calmly.
“At 1:00 PM EST, acting on our emergency civil asset forfeiture motion and criminal affidavit, federal marshals and local Miami-Dade police executed a simultaneous freeze-and-seize order across all personal accounts, credit cards, investment portfolios, and assets belonging to Jessica and Stephanie Brooks.”
My eyebrows raised slightly. “And where were they when it happened?”
“Where do you think?” Harrison laughed out loud. “They were sitting poolside at The Fontainebleau, signing the bill for a three-thousand-dollar private cabana lunch using your joint account debit card. The waiter swiped the card, the terminal flashed DECLINED: ACCOUNT FROZEN BY FEDERAL ORDER, and two minutes later, hotel security and two federal marshals walked up to their loungers with a stack of paperwork thicker than a telephone book.”
I felt a cold, deeply satisfying warmth spread through my chest. “How did they react?”
“Oh, it was cinematic gold, Luca,” Harrison chuckled, taking a sip of water. “Your mother apparently stood up, tried to slap a federal marshal, and started screaming at the top of her lungs about her constitutional rights, her country club memberships, and how her son was a powerful corporate executive who would ruin every single one of them before dinner time. They slapped handcuffs on both of them right there in front of four hundred wealthy tourists, tossed them into the back of a black SUV, and hauled them down to the precinct for booking.”
“What about the stolen funds?” I asked.
“Frozen instantly. The bank recovered the remaining cash from their personal checking accounts, and we’ve already filed a civil recovery lien against every piece of jewelry, designer clothing, and luxury accessory they purchased in Miami over the last two weeks. By tomorrow morning, your mother won't even have enough cash to buy a pack of gum, let alone post bail.”
“Good,” I said coldly. “Let them sit in a holding cell for forty-eight hours. Let them experience what real cold feels like without a blanket.”
“There’s one more thing,” Harrison added, his tone turning slightly more serious. “Your mother’s defense attorney—some public defender or small-time local counsel she managed to call from the precinct—just tried to contact my office whining about a settlement. They claim this is all a ‘misunderstanding between family members’ and that you’re being overly dramatic.”
May you like
A cold smile touched my lips. “Tell them that family values are very important to me. Especially the part where thieves go to prison.”
“Understood,” Harrison grinned. “I’ll handle the arraignment hearing tomorrow morning. You focus on Wendy and the baby.”
