Chapter 4 - The Predator's Trap
While Ellen was being stabilized under the vigilant care of the city's top medical minds, Andrew was celebrating.
In a luxury penthouse across the city, Andrew poured two glasses of expensive champagne, handing one to Cynthia, his mistress. Cynthia was a sleek, calculating woman clad in designer silk, her eyes glittering with greed.
"To a new beginning," Andrew toasted, clinking his glass against hers. "The old baggage is finally taken care of. By the time the landlord finds her, it’ll be a closed case of natural causes due to her illness. The kid won't know any better."
Cynthia smirked, sipping her drink. "And the accounts? Did you manage to clear them out?"
"Every single one," Andrew laughed boastfully. "I transferred her remaining trust shares into my offshore shell account. There’s about three million there. Plus, once she’s officially declared deceased, I’ll claim the full payout on her life insurance. We’re set for life, babe."
He pulled out his phone, intending to check his bank balance one more time to savor the victory. But when he opened his banking app, a strange red error message flashed across the screen: Account Suspended. Contact Fraud Prevention Immediately.
Andrew frowned, his brow furrowing. "That's weird. Probably a glitch."
He tried his secondary account. Access Denied.
He tried his corporate credit card. Invalid Account Number.
"What is it, Andrew?" Cynthia asked, noticing his sudden paleness.
"Nothing... just a banking error," he muttered, panic starting to claw at his chest. He dialed his personal banker's direct line.
The call was answered, but it wasn't his usual banker. A cold, professional male voice spoke. "Mr. Vance—pardon me, Mr. Andrew—your association with our institution has been terminated under the Emergency Financial Crimes Act. All assets associated with your name, SSN, and related shell companies have been placed under an international legal freeze."
"What?! On whose authority?!" Andrew screamed, jumping up from the sofa, spilling champagne onto the plush rug.
"On the authority of the Supreme Court of the State, acting on a motion filed by Vance Conglomerate," the voice replied calmly. "Have a nice evening." The line went dead.
Andrew stared at the phone in absolute horror. Vance Conglomerate.
He had spent ten years believing Ellen’s father had utterly abandoned her, that the old man was a myth, a broken relic who would never look back. He had counted on that silence to abuse, neglect, and rob Ellen.
Before he could process the terror, his phone buzzed again. It was an email notification. An official legal summons.
Emergency Custody Hearing, Immediate Asset Forfeiture, and Criminal Indictment for Attempted Murder by Depraved Indifference.
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The trap had closed. Andrew looked up at Cynthia, whose expression had instantly turned from affection to cold calculation. "Andrew... what did you do?" she demanded, stepping away from him.
"I... I have to go to the bank. It's a mistake!" Andrew stammered, grabbing his jacket. But deep down, he knew. The dying wife he had abandoned wasn't alone anymore. The dragon had awakened.
