Chapter 6 - The Rat Flees the Sinking Ship
Deprived of his fortune, stripped of his corporate empire, and banned from his own home, Flynn spent the next two weeks residing in a rundown motel near O'Hare Airport—the only accommodation he could afford after his personal accounts were frozen by federal prosecutors.
The once-proud billionaire now sat on a stained mattress, drinking cheap whiskey from a plastic cup, staring at a small television screen mounted on the wall.
On the news, a live broadcast was showing Selina Cole stepping out of a high-end restaurant in River North, wrapped in a mink coat, holding hands with an elderly, seventy-year-old real estate tycoon named Donald Vance (no relation to Flynn).
A reporter jammed a microphone toward Selina's face. "Ms. Cole! Is it true you are now engaged to Donald Vance? What about your relationship with Flynn Vance, who is currently awaiting trial for attempted murder?"
Selina paused, adjusted her diamond sunglasses, and put on a faux-innocent smile for the cameras.
"Flynn Vance?" Selina laughed lightly into the microphone. "Honestly, I barely know the man. He was just a client who used my interior design firm. He became wildly obsessed with me and did some horrible things. I’m just glad the police caught him before he hurt anyone else. Donald and I are focusing on our future now!"
Inside the dingy motel room, Flynn stared at the screen in disbelief.
A guttural scream tore from his throat. He threw his whiskey glass at the television, shattering the screen into dark, static sparks.
"She barely knows me?" Flynn shrieked to the empty room, pulling at his unwashed hair. "I gave up everything for her! I ruined my life for her!"
At that exact moment, a loud, thunderous knock rattled the thin wooden door of his motel room.
Flynn staggered to his feet, hoping against hope that it was Mabel, that somehow she had come to tell him this nightmare was over. He yanked the door open.
Standing outside were Detective Reynolds and two armed state troopers.
"Flynn Vance," Detective Reynolds said, holding up a fresh arrest warrant. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, and conspiracy."
Flynn let out a hollow, manic laugh, extending his wrists toward the officers without resisting. "Take me. Please, just take me to prison. There's nothing left out here anyway."
As the steel handcuffs clicked around his wrists for the second time, Detective Reynolds glanced inside the filthy motel room, smelling the stale alcohol and regret.
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"You really were a special kind of stupid, Vance," Reynolds said bluntly as she marched him toward the police cruiser. "You had a brilliant, beautiful wife who rebuilt your company, and you threw it all away for a woman who sold you out for a mink coat."
Flynn sat in the back of the police car, resting his forehead against the cold wire mesh screen. As the siren began to wail, he closed his eyes and wept silently, knowing that the real punishment hadn't even begun.
