Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Slaughter
Flynn did not go to his mistress's apartment. Driven by sheer, blind desperation, he hailed a cab—because his private chauffeur had ignored his calls—and ordered the driver to take him straight to the Vance Enterprises headquarters in Midtown. He was going to march into the boardroom, rally his loyal executives, and declare his wife a hostile corporate terrorist.
He burst through the revolving glass doors of his own building, only to find his security badge flashing a harsh, unforgiving red light at the turnstiles.
"Let me through, Marcus," Flynn demanded, slamming his hand against the glass barrier, glaring at the head of security.
Marcus, a man whose salary I had personally doubled three years ago, crossed his massive arms. "I'm sorry, Mr. Vance. I have strict orders from the majority shareholder. You are not permitted past the lobby."
Before Flynn could unleash a string of threats, the private executive elevator dinged. The polished steel doors slid open.
I stepped out into the lobby. I wore a tailored, midnight-blue designer suit. My posture was flawless, my expression utterly devoid of mercy. Flanking me were Phoebe and three of the most terrifying corporate litigators in the state.
"Mabel!" Flynn shouted, relief and fury warring on his face. He tried to push past the security guards. "Tell these idiots to let me through! We need to talk about this ridiculous stunt you pulled with the accounts. You are acting completely irrational!"
"I am acting with the exact cold detachment you displayed when you looked at our newborn daughter and walked away," I said, my voice echoing clearly across the expansive marble lobby. Employees stopped in their tracks, turning to watch the execution of their former CEO.
"I told you I would compensate you!" Flynn argued, completely oblivious to his own monstrous cruelty. "I was going to set up a trust for you! Selina's son is the male heir. It is a matter of family legacy!"
"Your family legacy is a mountain of defaulted loans that I paid off," I replied, stepping closer to the glass barrier, looking him dead in the eye. "You don't have a legacy, Flynn. You have a massive ego and a staggering lack of financial literacy. I brought you the paperwork four years ago. You signed away your equity because you were too arrogant to believe a woman could outmaneuver you in a contract."
I snapped my fingers. Phoebe handed me a sleek tablet.
"Furthermore," I continued, projecting my voice so every passing executive could hear, "we have completed a preliminary audit of the marketing budget. You used company funds to purchase a three-million-dollar townhouse for your intern and paid for her prenatal care using stolen corporate equity. That is federal wire fraud. The FBI has already been forwarded the digital ledgers."
Flynn physically stumbled backward, the color draining entirely from his face. The illusion of his power shattered into a million jagged pieces right there on the marble floor.
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"You're destroying me," he whispered, genuine terror finally replacing his arrogance.
"No, Flynn," I said smoothly, turning on my heel to walk back to the elevator. "I am just turning off the lights. You destroyed yourself in the dark."
