Chapter 6 - The Scavenger's FallWith Nathan in federal custody, the illusion he had so carefully constructed around his high-society life began to disintegrate at breathtaking speed.
Word of the catastrophic system shutdown and subsequent federal arrest spread through the Atlanta tech sector like wildfire. Investors who had fawned over Nathan hours earlier now scrambled to distance themselves from the scandal, deleting emails, canceling meetings, and instructing their legal teams to audit any contracts bearing his signature.
By mid-afternoon, the fallout reached the lavish Buckhead penthouse Nathan and I had shared—the very apartment where he had planned his hostile corporate takeover while I lay comatose in a hospital bed.
Elena stood by the window of my hospital room, scrolling through a live financial news feed on her phone, offering a running commentary with a satisfied grin.
"You won't believe what's happening at the penthouse, Val," Elena chuckled, showing me a local news helicopter clip.
On the screen, a camera crew was broadcasting live from the front entrance of our apartment building. Standing on the marble steps, looking utterly bewildered and furious, was Chloe.
She was still wearing her designer sunglasses, clutching the bright green Birkin Nathan had bought her with embezzled corporate funds. But her expensive lifestyle had just hit a brick wall.
"The building management locked her out," Elena explained, reading from a security briefing. "The lease was registered under Cross Technologies' subsidiary accounts, which were frozen under the federal audit. Her key card failed, her credit cards were declined at the lobby coffee shop, and her personal accounts linked to Nathan's corporate secondary cards have all been locked."
On the television broadcast, a reporter shoved a microphone toward Chloe's face.
"Ms. Ward! Can you comment on the federal raids at Cross Technologies? Is it true your lifestyle was funded by embezzled corporate capital?"
Chloe shrieked, swatting furiously at the camera lens before bursting into hysterical tears, desperately trying to flag down a passing taxi that refused to stop for her. The mighty mistress, who had stood beside Nathan mocking my supposed irrelevance, was suddenly discovering what true poverty and public humiliation felt like.
She had wanted my man, my status, and my empire.
Well, she could keep the man. The federal prison system was currently offering him a very long-term, taxpayer-funded residency.
I leaned back against the pillows, letting out a long, cleansing breath. The hospital room was quiet again, save for the steady, reassuring beep of the monitor.
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My body was still recovering. My muscles were weak, and I had months of physical therapy ahead of me.
But my mind was razor-sharp. And my company was safe.
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