Chapter 5 - Out in the Cold
By sunset, news of the corporate earthquake had leaked to the financial press. Headlines across Bloomberg, Forbes, and the Wall Street Journal blared in flashing digital red: AARON PRESCOTT TERMINATED FOR SYSTEMIC FRAUD; VANCE HEIRESS ASSUMES FULL CONTROL OF PRESCOTT DYNAMICS. The tech world was in absolute shambles, reeling from the revelation that the golden boy of artificial intelligence was nothing more than an empty puppet whose strings had just been cut.
Down on the rainy Manhattan pavement outside the corporate tower, Aaron, Eleanor, and Jasmine were huddled under a small bus shelter, soaked to the bone. Aaron’s telephone had been disconnected. His platinum credit cards had been confiscated by the hotel management when he attempted to check into the Ritz-Carlton. His designer luggage had been dumped onto the sidewalk by the building concierge after Marcus Sterling served an immediate eviction notice on the Fifth Avenue penthouse.
""Do something, Aaron!"" Eleanor shrieked, shivering uncontrollably under her ruined mink coat. ""Call your golf friends! Call Senator Henderson! Call anyone who owes you a favor!""
Aaron dialed frantically from a cheap prepaid burner phone he had bought with the twenty dollars Jasmine had left in her purse.
""Senator Henderson? It's Aaron. Aaron Prescott... Yes, sir, regarding the campaign donations... Hello? Hello?"" The line clicked dead. Aaron stared at the glowing screen in utter horror. He dialed his closest college friend, the venture capitalist who had toasted him as brother of the decade just last month.
""Hey, Dave, it's Aaron. I need a place to crash, man. Just for a couple of days while my legal team sorts out this—""
""Lose this number, Prescott,"" Dave's voice spat coldly through the speaker. ""The Vance family just blacklisted your entire lineage across every private bank from New York to Zurich. If I'm even seen sharing an umbrella with you, my fund loses twenty million in institutional backing. You're dead in the water, man.""
The call abruptly ended. Aaron lowered the phone, his hand trembling violently.
""What did he say?"" Jasmine asked, her teeth chattering from the damp chill. ""Mr. Prescott, are we going to the Hamptons estate? Can we take an Uber? My feet are killing me.""
""There is no Hamptons estate, you stupid girl!"" Eleanor suddenly snapped, lunging toward Jasmine with raised claws. ""This is all your fault! If you hadn't been rubbing on my son like a street cat on that damn jet, Alyssa wouldn't have snapped! You ruined our lives! You destroyed our family fortune!""
""My fault?"" Jasmine screamed back, stepping out of Eleanor’s reach into the pouring rain. ""Your son promised me a luxury penthouse and an executive vice president salary! He told me his wife was a brainless moron who didn't understand technology! He lied to me! He's broke! He doesn't even have taxi fare!""
Jasmine grabbed her single designer handbag, turned on her heel, and marched away into the stormy night, leaving Aaron and his mother alone under the flickering neon lights of the bus stop.
""Look at what she did to us, Aaron,"" Eleanor wept, sliding down onto the wet metal bench, her makeup streaming down her wrinkled cheeks in dark, muddy rivers. ""She took everything. Where are we going to sleep tonight? We have nowhere to go.""
Aaron stared down at his wet shoes. For the first time in five years, the bitter reality of his true worth set in. He had treated the woman who gave him an empire like garbage, trading genuine loyalty for cheap flattery and shallow vanity.
Suddenly, a sleek, black town car pulled up to the curb. Aaron’s heart leaped into his throat. ""Alyssa?"" he whispered, running toward the passenger window with renewed hope. ""Alyssa, you came back for me!""
The tinted window rolled down halfway. It wasn't me. It was Marcus Sterling, holding a manila envelope.
""Mr. Prescott,"" Marcus said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. ""Madam Vance has instructed me to deliver these to you personally.""
Marcus tossed the thick envelope through the window into Aaron’s wet hands.
""What is this?"" Aaron stammered, his fingers tearing into the paper. ""A settlement offer? A monthly allowance?""
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""Those are the uncontested divorce papers, filed under grounds of irreconcilable adultery and financial embezzlement,"" Marcus replied coldly. ""Attached to them is a comprehensive restraining order. You are barred from coming within one thousand yards of Madam Vance, Vance corporate properties, or any affiliated subsidiaries. Furthermore, the district attorney has just signed an indictment for your fraudulent misrepresentation of patent assets. You have twelve hours to report to the federal precinct for processing.""
The window slid smoothly up, and the town car glided away into the dark rain, leaving Aaron Prescott screaming his wife's name into the empty, indifferent night.
