Chapter 7 - Selina's Downfall and the Deal
We met at an obscure diner twenty miles outside the city, far from the cameras and corporate trackers.
Selina looked completely unrecognizable. The sleek, arrogant executive assistant who had smirked at me from Flynn’s lap was gone. She sat in a corner booth wearing an oversized hoodie, no makeup, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying. The diamond necklace was nowhere to be seen.
When I slid into the booth across from her, she flinched, pulling her hands into her sleeves.
"Where is the pendant, Selina?" I asked quietly.
"Flynn’s associates took it yesterday," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Two men came to my apartment. They forced me to hand over the jewelry, the keys to the towncar, and my personal laptop. Flynn told me that if I didn't sign a confession admitting that I embezzled the eight hundred thousand dollars through my brother's company without his knowledge, he would ensure I spent ten years in federal prison."
I watched her without a shred of pity. "You made your bed, Selina. You spent two years sleeping in it while laughing at the woman whose life you were helping dismantle."
"I was an idiot!" she broke down, burying her face in her hands. "He told me he was divorcing you! He told me you were an invalid who refused to sign the papers, that you were holding Clara hostage for money! He made me feel like we were partners building an empire together! But yesterday... yesterday on the phone, he called me a cheap disposable whore who was lucky he even looked at me!"
She reached into her canvas tote bag and pulled out a sleek silver external hard drive, sliding it across the laminate table toward me.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Flynn’s personal backup," Selina said, wiping her nose with a napkin. "He kept it in a safe deposit box under my name because he didn't want it discovered during any routine board audits. It contains every personal financial ledger, offshore bank routing number, and the encrypted messages between him and his crisis PR team where they planned the media smear against your mental health."
She leaned forward, her eyes pleading desperately.
"Mabel, please. Julian Cross filed a civil freeze against my bank accounts. I have ninety dollars left to my name. My brother is being questioned by state investigators. If Flynn pins this on me, my life is over. I'll testify against him. I'll sign an affidavit confirming he authorized every single wire transfer. Just don't let them put my brother in prison. He didn't know what Flynn was doing; he just signed the tax forms Flynn gave him."
I looked down at the hard drive, then back at the shattered woman in front of me.
"Julian will prepare a formal cooperation agreement," I said, picking up the drive and dropping it into my purse. "You will surrender every asset purchased with stolen funds—the Miami townhouse, the cars, the jewelry. You will provide a full, videotaped deposition detailing Flynn's embezzlement, his corporate fraud, and the timeline of your relationship."
"And then?" she asked, trembling.
"And then you disappear from this city, Selina," I said coldly. "You don't get an apology from me, and you don't get forgiveness. But if your evidence holds up, I will instruct the board to drop the private civil charges against your brother."
Selina slumped back against the vinyl booth, weeping with sheer relief.
May you like
I stood up and walked out of the diner into the crisp autumn air. Flynn had built his entire life on the assumption that women were weak, emotional, and easily turned against one another. He had never imagined that the two women he had exploited would become the architects of his total ruin.
***
