Chapter 8 - Margaret’s Downfall
The massive LED advertising screen mounted above Hayes Technologies flickered, switching from corporate branding to a crystal-clear medical document and a series of high-resolution surveillance photographs.
On the screen was a certified prenatal paternity test, conducted via non-invasive blood sampling.
*Father: Marcus Kane.*
Ethan’s breath hitched violently. Marcus Kane was his chief financial officer—his best friend from college and the man he had trusted to handle Hayes Technologies’ secondary accounts.
Below the test results were photographs taken outside a luxury motel on the outskirts of the city, showing Brenda locked in a passionate embrace with Marcus Kane, laughing as he handed her a thick envelope of cash.
“Brenda’s child belongs to your CFO, Ethan,” Claire said, her tone devoid of pity. “In fact, Brenda was hired by Marcus Kane eight months ago to orchestrate this entire affair, specifically to convince you to transfer forty percent of your personal shares to an offshore family trust under the child's name. You were being robbed blind by your mistress and your best friend while you were busy pouring boiling soup on my head.”
Brenda let out a ragged sob, turned on her heels, and sprinted away from the cameras, desperately trying to shield her face from the flashing lenses. No one stopped her; the cameras were too enthralled by Ethan’s complete, public annihilation.
Ethan spun toward Margaret, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “Mother... did you know about this? Did you know Kane was seeing Brenda?!”
Margaret was trembling so violently her fake pearls snapped, scattering across the asphalt like tiny white teeth. “I... I just wanted a grandson, Ethan! Brenda was so sweet to me! She bought me perfumes! She took me to the spa!”
“With your son’s embezzled corporate funds,” Arthur chimed in loudly, stepping forward with two detectives from the Financial Crimes Unit.
The detectives pushed through the reporters, producing a pair of polished handcuffs.
“Margaret Hayes,” Detective Reynolds announced, grabbing Margaret’s wrists and clicking the steel cuffs tightly around them. “You are under arrest for grand larceny, receiving stolen property, and insurance fraud amounting to 3.2 million dollars from the Mercer Philanthropic Trust.”
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“Get your filthy hands off me!” Margaret shrieked, thrashing against the officers as reporters captured every undignified contortion of her face. “Ethan, save me! I am your mother! Ethan!”
Ethan stood paralyzed. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. His mother was being dragged away in chains, his pregnant mistress had fled like a thief in the night, and his company was surrounded by the Vance empire’s private security.
