Chapter 4 - The Anatomy of a Parasite
By midnight, the internet had completely cannibalized Flynn Vance.
A video recorded by an orderly in the neonatal ICU had leaked onto TikTok and Twitter. The footage was grainy but crystal clear in its brutality: Flynn standing over my unconscious, hemorrhaging body, shoving the medical power-of-attorney documents into the doctor's hands, snarling that he wouldn't waste another dollar keeping "a vegetable and two half-dead burdens" plugged into life support, all while Chloe Sterling clung to his arm, complaining about dinner reservations.
The public fury was apocalyptic. Over forty million views in three hours. Flynn’s social media accounts were inundated with death threats, his company’s client portal crashed under a barrage of furious cancellations, and the building management of his corporate headquarters preemptively removed his name from the front plaza to prevent rioting.
Inside a holding room at the downtown precinct where he was being questioned for unlawful document manipulation and corporate fraud, Flynn was pacing like a caged beast.
"You don't understand!" Flynn screamed at the public defender assigned to him, his expensive silk tie torn and his hair soaked in sweat. "My wife is an orphan! She was an elementary school art teacher when I met her! She had no family! Someone gave her fake documents to sabotage me! This is an extortion scheme orchestrated by Hart Enterprises to steal my intellectual property!"
The tired attorney didn't even look up from his legal pad. "Mr. Vance, Hart Enterprises isn't an extortion syndicate. It is the primary financial backer that funded your initial seed round five years ago through an anonymous family trust. The settlor of that trust... was your wife, Claire Hart."
Flynn stopped dead in his tracks. The blood drained so violently from his face that he looked like a corpse.
"What... what did you say?" Flynn whispered, his hands trembling violently.
"Every luxury lease you signed, every high-yield loan you obtained to pose as a tech mogul, was guaranteed by her collateral," the attorney said dryly. "She owned your company before you ever incorporated it. And tonight, exercising her rights under Section 9 of the marital asset clause, she initiated full foreclosure. You don't have a penny left, Mr. Vance. Even the suit on your back was purchased on an American Express black card backed by her family's trust account."
Flynn collapsed onto the metal bench, clutching his head. Memories crashed into his skull like shattering glass: Claire quietly reviewing his business proposals late at night while he bragged about his genius; Claire smiling patiently when he mocked her modest car; Claire writing down numbers that he arrogantly thought were household grocery lists, but were actually financial risk formulas.
He had believed he was a king who picked up a plain stray from the dust.
In reality, he was a gutter rat who had been invited into a palace, and the moment he tried to poison the queen, the gates had shut to crush him.
Suddenly, the heavy iron door of the interrogation room creaked open. An officer stepped in, stepping aside to make way for a woman cloaked in an oversized trench coat, dark sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat.
Chloe Sterling took off her glasses, revealing eyes red from crying and fury.
"Chloe!" Flynn gasped, lunging forward with pathetic relief. "Baby, thank God! Did your father post bail? Did you talk to the board?"
*SLAP!*
May you like
The sharp crack echoed off the concrete walls. Flynn’s head snapped sideways, a red welt blooming instantly across his cheek.
***
