Chapter 6 - Desperate Measures
Flynn didn't wait long to strike back.
On Saturday afternoon, while Clara and I were at the park near our home, my phone buzzed with an alert from a local tabloid website. Flynn had hired an aggressive celebrity crisis PR firm.
The headline made my blood boil:
*VANCE GLOBAL SAGA TURNS UGLY: CEO ACCUSES ESTRANGED WIFE OF CORPORATE COUP AMID UNSTABLE MENTAL HEALTH BATTLE.*
The article was a masterpiece of vicious character assassination. It claimed I had suffered from severe postpartum depression that evolved into chronic paranoia, that I had become obsessed with Flynn's professional relationships, and that I had orchestrated the boardroom takeover as an act of domestic vengeance to alienate him from our daughter. It even included a leaked, out-of-context photograph of me crying on our front porch two years earlier—taken on the day my father died—framed as proof of my "emotional instability."
Ten minutes later, Flynn’s mother, Evelyn Vance, pulled up to the curb outside our house in her Mercedes.
Evelyn was a woman who lived entirely on social prestige and country club gossip. She marched up the driveway with her designer handbag clutched like a weapon, her face tight with venomous rage.
"Mabel!" she hissed, storming into the entryway as soon as I opened the door. "Have you completely lost your mind? Flynn is the father of your child! How dare you humiliate this family in the national press!"
"Evelyn," I said, blocking her path toward the living room where Clara was watching cartoons. "Keep your voice down. Clara is inside."
"Don't you lecture me about Clara!" Evelyn snapped, pointing a manicured finger in my face. "Flynn worked himself to the bone to provide this magnificent home for you! What if he had a brief lapse in judgment with an assistant? Men of his stature have needs! A sensible wife looks the other way, protects the family name, and enjoys the lifestyle! Instead, you run to lawyers, you steal his company shares, and you drag our name through the gutter!"
I stared at the woman who had spent five years treating me like a charity case, constantly reminding me how "lucky" I was that Flynn had rescued me from an ordinary life.
"Flynn didn't build this lifestyle, Evelyn," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. "My father funded this company. And your son has stolen over a million dollars from it to buy luxury cars and penthouses for another woman while telling me we were too poor to afford hot water for his granddaughter."
Evelyn blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered her sneer. "Lies! Slander invented by your bitter jealousy! Flynn will take Clara from you, Mabel. We have top custody attorneys filing an emergency motion on Monday morning. They will prove you are mentally unfit to care for her. You won't see a single dime, and you won't see your daughter!"
"Get out of my house," I said.
"This is my son's house!" Evelyn shrieked.
"The deed is registered under the Bennett Family Trust, Evelyn," I whispered, opening the front door wide. "Which means you are trespassing on private property. If you aren't off my driveway in sixty seconds, the police will escort you out in handcuffs, and I will ensure the local press catches every single angle."
Evelyn looked into my eyes, searching for the timid, yielding girl she had bullied for years. She found nothing but granite. She turned on her heel and stormed down the steps, her heels clicking furiously against the pavement.
As her car sped away, my phone rang again. It was an unknown number.
"Mabel?"
The voice was shaky, breathless, and terrified. It wasn't Flynn.
It was Selina.
May you like
"I need to see you," she sobbed into the phone. "Flynn... Flynn is trying to destroy me. He’s going to frame me for the entire Delaware account. Please. I have the files he deleted."
***
