Chapter 7 - The Downfall of a Narcissist
Watching a narcissist realize he has lost control is like watching a poorly constructed dam collapse under torrential rain.
Victor didn't touch the boxes. He stood on the driveway, waving his arms hysterically, screaming at Rita, screaming at the police officers, and screaming at the neighbors who had begun gathering at the edge of their manicured lawns to witness the spectacle.
""You traitor!"" Victor shrieked at Rita, storming toward the Mercedes. ""You told me you filed the paperwork correctly! What did they offer you? What did she pay you to turn on me, you stupid little girl?!""
Rita snapped. Months of being used as his corporate scapegoat and emotional punching bag exploded in a split second.
""Shut up, Victor!"" she screamed back, tears streaming down her face. ""She didn't pay me anything! You set me up! You put my name on fraudulent shell companies! You stole two point four million dollars from her and put the corporate liability on my head! The IRS is going to destroy me because of you!""
""Shut your mouth!"" Victor lunged forward, but Sergeant Miller and his partner moved instantly, grabbing Victor by his arms and pinning him against the hood of the Mercedes.
""Mr. Sterling! Keep your hands to yourself or you’re going into custody right now!"" Sergeant Miller barked.
""Get off me! I’m recovering from major surgery!"" Victor wheezed, his face pressed against the cold silver metal of the car. ""I have a surgical incision! You're assaulting a disabled patient!""
""The only thing you're suffering from, Victor,"" Daniel said, walking down the steps with a briefcase in hand, ""is the immediate consequence of your own arrogance. While you were throwing your tantrum on this driveway, my associate filed emergency injunctions freezing every single domestic and international bank account tied to your name, your architectural firm, and Blue Horizon Holdings.""
Victor’s eyes bulged with terror. ""What? You can't freeze my business accounts! I have payroll! I have client contractors to pay tomorrow!""
""You had payroll,"" Daniel corrected. ""Until the Massachusetts Department of Revenue and the Bank of America Special Investigations Unit reviewed the audit trails Sarah provided this morning. The commercial clients you overbilled? We notified them at nine o'clock. The board of the Boston Architectural Heritage Commission? They have already initiated emergency proceedings to suspend your professional license pending an ethics inquiry.""
Victor slumped against the car, the fight suddenly draining from his limbs. Without his money, without his prestigious firm, and without the illusion of his high-society standing, he looked nothing more than a frail, pathetic sixty-year-old man in an ill-fitting sweater.
""Sarah..."" Victor croaked, turning his tear-streaked face toward the porch where I still stood. ""Sarah, you can't do this to me. I have nowhere to go. I don't have access to my credit cards. How am I supposed to buy my anti-rejection medication? I need those immunosuppressants every twelve hours! Without them, my body will reject the kidney! Do you want your own kidney to die inside me?!""
It was his final, most desperate card. Emotional blackmail. Using the very sacrifice I had made to guilt me into surrendering.
I walked down the three granite steps, stopping five feet from where he leaned against the car. I looked down into the eyes of the man I had loved for half my life, and for the first time in twenty-two years, I felt absolutely nothing. No anger. No grief. No regret. Just vast, liberating emptiness.
""Victor,"" I said softly, loud enough for every neighbor on the street to hear, ""I gave you a kidney to save your life because I made a vow before God twenty-two years ago. I kept my vow. But the Commonwealth of Massachusetts provides excellent medical care to inmates at the Suffolk County House of Correction. I'm sure their dispensary will ensure your anti-rejection pills are administered right on schedule.""
May you like
""Inmates...?"" Victor whispered, his voice trembling in horror.
Down the street, two black Ford Explorers with tinted windows turned the corner, their federal emergency lights flashing silently beneath their grilles.
