Chapter 8 - A Snake in the Nursery
Before Flynn could rip out the wire, the heavy oak doors at the back of the grand ballroom swung open with an authoritative crash.
Fourteen armed federal marshals marched down the center aisle, their boots thudding in unison against the carpeted floor. Behind them walked Dr. Morris, holding a sealed evidence pouch containing the tainted medical vials, followed by the chief of police.
And behind them, stepping into the blinding glare of the morning sun filtering through the atrium, walked me.
I wore a tailored ivory pantsuit, my spine straight, my dark hair falling over my shoulders like liquid obsidian. I pushed a customized double pram made of polished silver and aerospace-grade carbon fiber. Leo and Maya rested inside, their tiny chests rising and falling healthily, completely unharmed.
"Claire!" someone screamed from the press corps.
"She’s here! The heiress is here!"
Camera shutters fired like machine guns. Flashbulbs washed the ballroom in blinding white light.
Chloe Sterling shrieked, backing away from the podium so violently that she knocked over her chair, tumbling onto the stage in an ungraceful heap. Flynn stood frozen, staring at me as if he were staring at an archangel who had climbed out of the depths of hell to pass judgment.
"You said my children were dying, Flynn," my voice rang out across the hall, amplified by the wireless lapel mic pinned to my lapel. My voice was smooth, deep, and utterly devoid of mercy. "You said I was unfit. You claimed I was locked away in madness."
I stopped at the foot of the stage, looking up at him.
"Here are my children. Fully healthy, thriving, and guarded by the state’s elite pediatric unit." I gestured slightly, and Jonathan stepped forward, handing a stack of red-stamped documents to the federal marshals. "And here are the arrest warrants for conspiracy to commit attempted first-degree murder of minors, corporate espionage, and domestic fraud."
"No... no! It’s a lie! That recording is AI-generated!" Flynn wailed, pointing a shaking finger at Chloe. "It was her! She planned it! Chloe paid Dr. Ross! She threatened me! She said she would ruin me if I didn't cooperate!"
Chloe, scrambling on the carpet in her designer heels, looked at him with sheer hatred. "You cowardly piece of garbage! You begged me to find a way to get the money! You said you wished the twins had strangled on their umbilical cords!"
The press recorded every single word, broadcasting the mutual destruction of Flynn Vance and Chloe Sterling live to seventy million viewers across the globe.
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"Mr. Flynn Vance, Miss Chloe Sterling," the lead marshal declared, stepping onto the stage and drawing his handcuffs. "You are under arrest. Do not resist."
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