Chapter 2 - The Trap at Gate 14The wheels of Flight 1812 slammed onto the tarmac at Charlotte Douglas International Airport with a deafening screech. The cabin lights flickered to life.
"Brooke, listen to me very carefully," Reid said, unbuckling his seatbelt as the plane taxied toward the gate. "There will be process servers, paparazzi, and likely hired security waiting at the gate. Chloe and Trevor know I’m on this plane. They want me served with a restraining order before I can step foot inside Vance Headquarters."
"What do I do?" Brooke panicked, holding Lily close. "If Trevor laundered money through my name, am I going to be arrested?"
"Not while I'm breathing," Reid said firmly. He slipped off his navy jacket and draped it over Brooke’s shoulders, then handed her a sleek black keycard with no markings. "This opens the private executive elevator on the basement level of the terminal. Take Lily, go straight down, and find a black Suburban with tinted windows. The driver's name is Marcus. Tell him 'The Ledger is clear.'"
"What about you?"
"I'm going to draw the crowd," Reid smiled cold-bloodedly. "It's time I gave them the show they paid for."
When the jetway door swung open, the atmosphere instantly exploded. Flashbulbs went off like lightning strikes through the glass windows of Gate 14. Microphones were shoved forward as reporters yelled over each other.
"Mr. Vance! Is it true you embezzled forty million dollars?" "Reid! Are you stepping down as Chairman?"
Standing right at the edge of the security line, looking impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, was Trevor Madsen. Beside him stood Chloe Sterling, looking like a ravenous wolf in a designer crimson trench coat. Trevor had a smirk on his face—the same condescending smirk he used whenever he told Brooke she was bad with numbers.
"End of the line, Reid," Trevor called out loudly over the noise of the press, holding up a thick manila envelope. "As legal representative for the new board of directors, you are officially served!"
Reid walked out calmly, holding nothing but a cup of black coffee he had grabbed from the galley. He stopped inches from Trevor.
"You've stepped way out of your depth, Madsen," Reid said softly, ignoring the flashbulbs. "You should have stayed in Dallas."
"Dallas was small time," Trevor sneered, leaning in so the microphones wouldn't catch his words. "Brooke was a pathetic little footnote. She's probably crying on a bench somewhere right now, realizing she can't even afford formula. And you? You're done."
While Trevor and Chloe basked in the media circus, enjoying Reid’s apparent surrender, no one noticed a young mother in a worn coat pushed a stroller right past the edge of the crowd, slipping silently into the service hallway behind the gate.
Brooke’s heart hammered in her chest as she pressed the black keycard against the reader of the executive elevator. The light flashed green, and the doors slid open.
As she descended into the underground VIP loading dock, her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number.
Photo attached.
Brooke opened it. It was a picture of her right now, taken from a security camera inside the airport corridor.
May you like
Below the picture, a message read: Did you really think you could run, Brooke? Return the baby to Trevor at the Marriott downtown within one hour, or the police will receive the wire transfer records showing YOU stole the forty million. You have 60 minutes before you become a wanted fugitive.
Brooke stumbled out of the elevator, her knees buckling. The black Suburban was waiting, engine idling, but the threat was terrifyingly real.
