Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The civil lawsuit was served at 9:00 AM on Monday morning.
I demanded one hundred and fifty million dollars in damages for wrongful death, gross negligence, assault, and battery. Simultaneously, my brother’s firm leaked the full forensic report on Selina Cole’s corporate espionage to the Wall Street Journal.
By noon, the financial fallout was catastrophic.
Vance Global’s board of directors held an emergency meeting and voted unanimously to remove Flynn Vance as CEO, revoking his voting rights and freezing all corporate credit accounts tied to his name.
Selina Cole was arrested at 2:00 PM at the St. Regis Hotel by federal agents, charged with corporate espionage, wire fraud, and filing a false police report.
That evening, I sat in Leo’s conference room, watching the live news coverage of Selina being led out of the hotel in handcuffs, wearing the very designer coat Flynn had bought her. She covered her face from the cameras, weeping hysterically, but there were no soft arms to wrap around her this time.
“Arthur Vance called three times this afternoon,” Leo said, setting a glass of sparkling water in front of me. “He’s offering to surrender Flynn’s personal stock in Vance Global to satisfy your civil claim if you agree not to testify at the criminal trial.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“I told him to prepare for the criminal trial,” Leo smiled.
Three months passed in a blur of legal motions, depositions, and medical evaluations.
My surgical wounds healed, leaving two thin, jagged silver scars across my lower abdomen—constant physical reminders of the night I lost my babies. But mentally, the fog had completely cleared. I spent my days working with my legal team, ensuring that every single loophole Flynn’s defense team tried to exploit was slammed shut.
On the eve of the criminal trial, District Attorney Vance—no relation to Flynn—offered Flynn a plea deal: twenty-five years in state prison with no possibility of parole, in exchange for pleading guilty to two counts of felony feticide and one count of attempted murder.
Flynn’s lead defense attorney, a high-priced veteran named Harold Vance, rushed to the jail to present the deal.
“If we go to trial, Flynn,” Harold warned him in the attorney-client consultation room, “that 4K video from the neighbor’s security camera showing you walking out of the house with Selina while your wife was bleeding inside will be played for the jury. Mabel will take the stand in her surgical bandage. You will get life without parole.”
Flynn sat in his grey jumpsuit, his face completely hollowed out by three months of fear, betrayal, and isolation.
“Where is Selina?” Flynn asked softly, his voice dead.
“Selina signed a plea bargain an hour ago,” Harold revealed coldly. “She agreed to testify against you, claiming you dragged her into your domestic feud and forced her to lie to the police.”
Flynn closed his eyes. A single tear cut through the dirt on his pale cheek.
“Where is Mabel?” he whispered.
May you like
“She’s sitting in the gallery waiting for the trial to start,” Harold replied. “She isn't leaving until you’re sentenced.”
Flynn signed the plea agreement with a trembling hand.
