Chapter 4 - The Mistress’s True Colors
The descent from billionaire playboy to absolute destitution is a spectacular, violent plunge.
Without access to the company servers, his bank accounts, or his high-society friends—who had all immediately blocked his number the moment the scandal broke on the front page of the Wall Street Journal—Flynn was forced to retreat to the only place he had left: Selina’s luxury apartment in Tribeca.
But there was a fatal flaw in his sanctuary. I held the deed to the LLC that owned the building.
When Flynn stumbled into the apartment, thoroughly humiliated and broken, he found Selina furiously throwing designer clothes and handbags into a stack of Louis Vuitton luggage in the center of the living room. Her pregnant belly bumped awkwardly against the coffee table as she frantically packed.
"Selina? What are you doing?" Flynn rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming in the corporate lobby. "Where are you going?"
Selina stopped packing and whipped around to face him. The sweet, adoring, subservient facade of the devoted mistress had completely evaporated. Her face was twisted into a mask of pure, ugly contempt.
"I'm leaving, Flynn!" she shrieked, zipping up a suitcase with violent force. "Your psychotic wife just had the building managers serve me with a 24-hour eviction notice! She shut off the electricity! The doorman won't even let me use the private elevator!"
"I'll fix it! I'll call a lawyer and we'll sue her!" Flynn begged, rushing forward to grab her hands. "We just need to lay low for a few weeks until I can access my secret offshore accounts!"
Selina yanked her hands away from him as if his skin were coated in acid. "There are no offshore accounts, you idiot! I saw the news! She froze everything! You are completely broke!"
"But I love you!" Flynn pleaded, sinking to his knees on the hardwood floor, a pathetic shadow of the man he once was. "We have a son together! You're carrying my second child! We're a family!"
Selina stared down at him, her lips curling into a cruel, mocking laugh that echoed through the darkening apartment.
"A family?" she scoffed, picking up her heavy designer coat. "Flynn, you are a delusional, arrogant fool. You really thought a twenty-three-year-old model wanted to spend her life with a balding, middle-aged man because of his sparkling personality? I wanted the yachts. I wanted the black cards. I wanted the penthouses. Without the money, you are absolutely nothing."
She walked over to the door, pulling her luggage behind her. She stopped, turning back to deliver the final, devastating blow that would completely break his mind.
"And by the way," Selina sneered, her eyes glittering with malice. "You should probably demand a paternity test for the boy. When you were busy playing the devoted husband to Mabel last year, I was sleeping with your personal trainer. I’m not actually sure whose kid it is. But he certainly won't be inheriting a billion dollars, will he?"
The heavy apartment door slammed shut, sealing Flynn in complete, terrifying darkness.
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The woman he had destroyed his marriage for, the woman he had cruelly paraded into my delivery room to humiliate me, had abandoned him the exact second his wallet ran dry. He was entirely alone. He had thrown away a brilliant, loving wife and a beautiful, legitimate daughter for a cheap illusion that evaporated the moment the lights went out.
He curled into a ball on the floor of the powerless apartment, sobbing hysterically into the darkness, finally realizing the horrifying magnitude of the mistake he had made.
