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The Digital Trail
Morgan Vance was the director of marketing at Halstead Development Group, the prestigious firm originally founded by Reid’s grandfather. For over a year, Reid had repeatedly assured Brooke that Morgan was strictly a talented employee who accompanied him on regional business trips out of necessity.
With hands trembling so violently she could barely operate the trackpad, Brooke opened the encrypted messaging thread.
What she uncovered in those archives altered the course of her life forever.
The chat log was overflowing with attached photographs—candid shots from high-end restaurants, weekend beach resorts, and private corporate galas. Several were explicitly dated during the difficult final trimester of Brooke’s high-risk pregnancy.
One specific message had been sent on the very night Rowan was rushed into the neonatal unit.
Morgan had written:
“I wish you were here with me tonight.”
Reid’s immediate reply read:
“Believe me, I would rather be anywhere on earth right now than sitting in this hospital.”
Brooke clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle the choked sob rising in her throat.
Directly below the personal messages were scanned PDF attachments of formal legal documents.
During the seventh month of her pregnancy, Reid had asked Brooke to sign what he casually characterized as “routine paperwork” regarding standard tax filings and family health insurance coverage. At the time, Brooke had been exhausted, physically uncomfortable, and completely trusting of her husband.
The documents were anything but routine.
One form severely restricted her financial claims and spousal rights in the event of a divorce. Another document shockingly asserted that Brooke had voluntarily agreed for Rowan to be placed in the primary physical custody of the Halstead family should a medical professional determine that she required “extended emotional recovery.”
The signature at the bottom was unquestionably hers.
However, looking at the layout, several critical paragraphs regarding custody and emotional fitness had clearly been inserted after she had placed her name on the blank line.
Brooke quickly inserted a small flash drive into the USB port and copied every file, PDF, and image. She then took high-resolution photos of the message logs on her phone and forwarded everything to a newly created, secure email address.
Just as she closed the laptop screen, the heavy oak front door clicked open down the hall.
Reid was back.
He appeared in the office doorway seconds later, narrowing his eyes as he assessed the pale, strained expression on her face.
“What exactly are you doing at my desk, Brooke?”
Brooke forced her breathing to steady, locking down every trace of panic as she held his gaze.
“I was looking for the charger for Rowan’s monitor.”