Chapter 7: The Midnight Wiretap
By Sunday night, the tension inside the ninth-floor penthouse of Callaway Tower was thick enough to choke on.
Isla sat at the kitchen island, staring blankly at a cold cup of tea. Noah was asleep against her chest in a gray baby wrap. She was rocking back and forth in tiny, rhythmic micro-movements—the physical manifestation of a mother’s sheer panic.
Saurin Park was pacing the length of the living room, her phone pressed tightly to her ear.
Roman stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city lights bleed into the dark November sky.
“Say that again, Vance,” Saurin barked into her phone. She stopped pacing. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Isla looked up, her breathing hitching. “What is it? What did Callum do?”
Saurin held up a finger, listening intently to the private investigator on the other end of the line. A vicious, triumphant smile slowly spread across her sharp face.
“Send me the audio file immediately. Secure encrypted channel,” Saurin ordered, hanging up the phone.
She turned to Roman and Isla.
“Carl Voss didn’t listen to you, Roman,” Saurin announced, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the kill. “He panicked. His Chief of Staff just made a phone call to the family court clerk ten minutes ago. They tried to bribe the clerk to mysteriously ‘lose’ our counter-evidence file before the judge reviews the docket tomorrow morning.”
Isla gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “They can do that? They can just erase my evidence?”
“They try,” Roman said, turning away from the window. “But they failed.”
“Vance intercepted the call,” Saurin said, tapping her phone screen as an audio file downloaded. “We have the councilman’s office on tape committing a felony obstruction of a family court proceeding.”
“Play it,” Roman commanded.
Saurin pressed play. The tinny, compressed voice of the Chief of Staff echoed through the quiet apartment.
“Look, Jimmy, the Voss kid has a hearing tomorrow at 9:00 with Reiner. The mother filed a stack of harassment texts. I need that folder to accidentally fall behind a desk until Tuesday. There’s ten grand in it for your campaign fund.”
Isla stared at the phone in absolute horror. “They were going to steal my son for ten thousand dollars.”
“They were going to try,” Saurin corrected her, sliding the phone into her briefcase. “I’m sending this recording to the State Ethics Board and the Judicial Oversight Committee right now. By the time the judge bangs his gavel tomorrow, he will know he is being watched by the FBI.”
Isla looked down at Noah. Her chin trembled, but she forced it back up.
“Callum planned this for months, didn’t he?” Isla whispered, the devastating realization finally cementing in her mind.
“Yes,” Roman said softly, walking over to the kitchen island.
“He sat in the apartment while I was pregnant. He painted the nursery yellow,” Isla said, her voice cracking as the betrayal tore through her chest. “He painted the room for my baby while he was actively paying a lawyer to take him away from me.”
Roman looked at her. He didn’t offer empty platitudes. He didn’t tell her it was going to be okay.
“He painted a trap,” Roman said evenly. “But tomorrow morning, we are going to lock him inside it.”
