Chapter 43 Under oat

Chapter 43 Under oat
At 12:30 PM, two federal agents arrived to transport them to the courthouse. Different agents than before. A woman named Martinez and a man named Chen—same last name as Jennifer, no relation, he clarified immediately.

The drive took forty minutes. Forty minutes of silence broken only by the agents' occasional radio chatter. Wren watched the landscape pass—mountains, forests, small towns that looked peaceful and normal and completely unaware that her world was ending.

As they got closer to the courthouse, traffic got heavier. News vans lined the streets. Satellite dishes pointed skyward. Cameras everywhere.

"Jesus," Jonah muttered. "Miller wasn't kidding."

"The front entrance is blocked," Agent Martinez said. "We're taking you in through the back. Judge's orders. You'll avoid most of the media that way."

They pulled into a secured parking area behind the courthouse. Even here, reporters had gathered. They surged forward as the car stopped, cameras flashing, voices shouting questions.

"Ms. Blackwood! Is the deed authentic?"

"Are you doing this for money?"

"Do you have any comment on the Vale family's lawsuit?"

"How does it feel to be called a fraud?"

The agents flanked them. Created a barrier with their bodies. Pushed through the crowd. Wren kept her head down, didn't make eye contact, tried to breathe through the panic rising in her chest.

They made it inside. The door closed behind them, cutting off the noise.

"You okay?" Jonah asked quietly.

"No," Wren admitted. "But I'm still standing."

A bailiff led them to a small conference room. Maria Whitehorse was already there, papers spread across the table, looking sharp in a gray suit.

"Wren. Jonah." Maria stood, shook their hands. "I'm not going to lie to you—this is going to be rough. The Vale lawyers are good. Very good. And Judge Morrison is known for being conservative on land claims. He's not going to just hand you this victory."

"What do we need to do?" Wren asked.

"Tell the truth. Simply. Clearly. Don't get emotional. Don't let them bait you into anger." Maria met her eyes. "They're going to attack your character. Your past. Your motives. And you need to stay calm through all of it. Can you do that?"

"I can try."

"Trying isn't enough. You need to do it." Maria's voice softened slightly. "I know that sounds harsh. But the judge is watching. The media is watching. One emotional outburst, one moment of breaking down, and they'll use it against you. They'll say you're unstable. They'll say you're lying. You can't give them that."

Wren nodded. Felt Jonah's hand find hers under the table.

"What about the defamation lawsuit?" Jonah asked. "Fifty million?"

"It's intimidation. Pure and simple. They'll never see that money even if they win, which they won't. The truth is an absolute defense to defamation. Everything in Jennifer's article is documented. Verified. They can't prove it's false because it's not."

"But they're going to try," Wren said.

"Oh, they'll definitely try." Maria gathered her papers. "But we have something they don't. We have the truth. And despite what everyone says about lawyers and courts and justice being blind—the truth still matters. Sometimes it's the only thing that matters."

A knock on the door. The bailiff. "Court's in session in five minutes."

Maria stood. "Ready?"

Wren wasn't ready. Would never be ready. But she stood anyway. Straightened her blouse. Lifted her chin.

"Let's go."

The courtroom was packed. Every seat filled. People standing along the walls. Wren recognized some faces—Webb, looking nervous but supportive. Sage beside him. A few other museum staff. Catherine Vale-Morrison in the back, the only Vale family member who'd publicly supported the land claim.

And on the other side—Victoria Vale. Dressed in black, elegant and cold, surrounded by a team of lawyers in expensive suits. She met Wren's eyes as they entered. Smiled. A terrible, knowing smile that said I'm going to destroy you.

Wren looked away. Focused on Maria's back as they walked to their table.

"All rise."

Judge Morrison entered. Older man, gray hair, stern face. He sat, adjusted his glasses, looked over the papers in front of him.

"This is an emergency hearing regarding the disputed ownership of approximately fifteen thousand acres in Flathead County, Montana." His voice was dry, formal. "The Vale family is seeking an injunction to prevent Ms. Wren Blackwood from claiming ownership based on what they allege is a forged deed. Ms. Blackwood maintains the deed is authentic and legally binding. We're here to determine which claim has merit."

He looked up. "Counsel for the Vales. Present your case."

The lead Vale lawyer stood. Tall, silver-haired, voice like gravel. "Your Honor, this case is simple. Ms. Blackwood has produced a document she claims proves her ancestor owned land that has been in the Vale family for over a century. But this document—this supposed 'deed'—has never been recorded. Never been filed with the county. Never been authenticated by any credible historical body. It simply appeared, conveniently, just as Ms. Blackwood was searching for a way to profit from her family's tangential connection to Montana history."

"Objection," Maria said calmly. "Counsel is editorializing."

"Sustained. Stick to facts, Mr. Harrison."

Harrison nodded. "The facts, Your Honor, are these. The deed in question—"

For the next hour, Wren sat and listened as lawyers argued over her life. Over Sarah's life. Over history and evidence and legal precedents that made her head spin.

Harrison painted her as a con artist. A desperate single mother who'd abandoned her child and was now trying to cash in on a fake document.

Maria painted the Vales as thieves. A family built on stolen land, stolen labor, stolen lives.

The judge listened. Made notes. Gave nothing away.

Finally: "Ms. Blackwood. Approach the stand."

Wren's heart stopped. "Now?"

"Now," the judge confirmed.

She stood. I walked to the witness stand. Raised her right hand. Swore to tell the truth.

Sat down.

Harrison stood. Smiled at her. A predator's smile.

"Ms. Blackwood. You claim you discovered this deed in a museum specimen. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And before that discovery, you had no knowledge of your family's supposed land ownership?"

"That's correct."

"Interesting." Harrison picked up a paper. "Because according to county records, your mother requested access to historical land documents in 2010. The same documents that would have contained information about this supposed deed. Were you aware of that?"

Wren's mouth went dry. "No."

"No? You didn't know your mother was researching the family's land claim?"

"I didn't."

"How convenient." Harrison's voice dripped with skepticism. "So your mother researches the claim, finds nothing apparently, and then ten years later you miraculously discover a deed that had been hidden for over a century. And you expect us to believe this is a coincidence?"

"I expect you to believe the truth."

"The truth." Harrison laughed. "Ms. Blackwood, let's talk about your relationship with the truth. You left Montana pregnant ten years ago. Correct?"

"Yes."

"And you never told the father about the pregnancy. Never told him about the child. For nine years, you kept your daughter's existence a secret from her own father. Is that your version of truth?"

Maria stood. "Objection. Relevance?"

"It speaks to the witness's credibility, Your Honor."

"Overruled. Answer the question, Ms. Blackwood."

Wren forced herself to breathe. "I made mistakes. I was young and scared and I handled things badly. But that has nothing to do with the deed. Nothing to do with Sarah and Elias."

"Doesn't it?" Harrison moved closer. "You have a history of deception. Of hiding things. Of running away when life gets difficult. Why should we believe you're not doing the same thing now? Hiding behind a fake document. Running from the truth. Deceiving everyone for your own benefit?"

"Because I'm not," Wren said. Her voice shook but held. "The deed is real. The marriage certificate is real. Sarah and Elias were real. And they deserve to have their story told truthfully, even if it's uncomfortable for some people."

"Uncomfortable?" Harrison's eyebrows rose. "Is that what you call accusing one of Montana's most respected families of theft and murder?"

"I call it telling the truth."

"Your truth. Your convenient, profitable truth."

"The truth," Wren corrected. "Not mine. Not yours. Just the truth."

Harrison smiled again. "No further questions."

He sat down. Wren stayed on the stand, shaking, while Maria stood for her turn.

"Ms. Blackwood," Maria's voice was gentle. "You said you made mistakes ten years ago. Can you explain what you meant?"

"I was pregnant. Alone. Terrified. I lost one of the twins I was carrying. And I—I couldn't handle it. I couldn't face telling Jonah. So I ran. I hid. I built a life in Seattle and tried to pretend the past didn't exist."
"But you came back."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Wren looked at Jonah. At the man who'd forgiven her, who'd fought beside her, who'd loved her despite everything.

"Because running doesn't fix anything," she said quietly. "It just delays the reckoning. And I was tired of running."
"And the deed? Why pursue this claim when you knew it would be dangerous? When you knew the Vales would fight back?"

"Because Sarah couldn't fight for herself," Wren said. "Because she and Elias loved each other against all odds, and their love resulted in my family existing. Because truth matters. Because justice matters. Because—" Her voice cracked. She steadied it. "Because I want my daughter to grow up knowing her family's real story. Not the lies. Not the erasure. The truth."
Maria nodded. "No further questions."
Judge Morrison looked at Wren. "You may step down."

She returned to her seat on unsteady legs. Jonah squeezed her hand under the table.
"You did good," he whispered.

But Wren didn't feel good. She felt exposed. Eviscerated. Like Harrison had peeled back her skin and shown everyone her worst moments, her deepest failures.
Judge Morrison cleared his throat. "I've heard arguments from both sides. I've reviewed the evidence. And I'm prepared to make a preliminary ruling."

Wren's heart stopped.

"The deed in question appears authentic. The handwriting has been analyzed. The paper dated. The signatures were verified. While I cannot make a final determination in this emergency hearing, I see no reason to grant an injunction preventing Ms.

Blackwood from pursuing her claim."
Relief crashed over Wren.

"However," the judge continued, "I am also not prepared to immediately validate the claim. This case requires further investigation. Expert testimony.

Archaeological evidence. Historical research. I'm ordering a full evidentiary hearing to be scheduled within sixty days."
He banged his gavel. "This preliminary hearing is adjourned."

People started talking all at once. Maria leaned over. "That's good. That's a win."
"Is it?" Wren asked.

"He didn't shut us down. Didn't grant their injunction. He's giving us a chance to prove our case. That's all we can ask for right now."

Wren nodded. I tried to feel victorious. I felt numb instead.

They stood. Started toward the exit. The bailiff opened the door, and immediately the noise hit—reporters shouting, cameras flashing, everyone wanting a piece of the story.

Agent Martinez appeared. "This way. We'll take the back exit again."

They pushed through the crowd. Different questions this time:
"Ms. Blackwood! How do you feel about the judge's ruling?"

"Will you accept a settlement from the Vale family?"

"Is it true you were threatened?"

"Do you fear for your daughter's safety?"
That last one stopped Wren cold. She turned, met the reporter's eyes.

"Yes," she said. Simple. Honest. "I fear for my daughter every single day. Because the people we're fighting have killed before. And they'll kill again if we let them.

So no—I won't accept a settlement. I won't back down. I won't stop until my family gets justice."

Agent Martinez pulled her away. "No more comments. Let's go."

They made it to the car. Drove away from the courthouse, the cameras, the chaos.
Wren's phone buzzed. Text from unknown number.

She opened it with shaking hands.
Brave speech. But bravery won't save you. Nothing will. Tick tock.

She showed it to Jonah.
His jaw tightened. "They're not going to stop."

"No," Wren agreed. "They're not."

They drove back to the safe house in silence. Back to Lily, back to Rachel, back to the small island of safety in a sea of danger.

But Wren knew the truth.

There was no safety. Not really. Not as long as the Vales had money and power and nothing to lose.

The war had begun.

And they were just getting started.