Chapter 4 - The Gutter of Regret
Six months later,
the city felt different to David,
smaller and much more hostile.
He was living in a studio apartment above a noisy laundromat,
the air constantly smelling of damp clothes and bleach.
His business had folded within weeks of the divorce,
as every major client suddenly decided to take their contracts elsewhere.
It turned out that the "networking" David thought he was so good at was actually just Catherine’s father making phone calls behind the scenes.
Without the Sterling-Vane shadow protecting him,
David was just another mediocre man with a failing portfolio.
Megan had stopped calling him altogether after she lost her own job at the firm,
blaming him for "bringing that woman into their lives."
Allison was gone,
of course.
The moment she realized the money was dry and the "heir" narrative was dead,
she had moved on to a car salesman three towns over.
David sat at a rickety wooden table,
staring at a pile of past-due notices and a crumpled photo of his daughters.
He had tried to find Catherine,
but she was a shadow.
He had hired a private investigator with the last of his cash,
only to be told that Catherine Sterling-Vane didn't want to be found.
The investigator had laughed when David mentioned the name.
"You're trying to find a woman who owns the satellite you'd use to track her,"
the man had said.
David’s health was failing,
the stress of his sudden poverty accelerating the genetic condition the doctor had mentioned.
His joints ached,
his hair was thinning,
and his eyes were perpetually bloodshot.
He spent his nights wandering past the old condo,
watching the new residents—a young,
happy couple with a baby girl—living the life he had thrown away.
He remembered how he had looked at Catherine that last day,
calling her a washed-up housewife.
The irony was a bitter pill that stuck in his throat every time he tried to swallow.
He had been the parasite,
living off the grace of a queen he was too blind to recognize.
He found a discarded magazine in the trash one evening,
the cover featuring the "Top 10 Most Powerful Women in Europe."
There she was.
Catherine wasn't wearing the sensible cardigans and muted colors he had forced her into.
She was wearing a sharp,
navy blue power suit,
standing in front of a glass skyscraper in London.
The headline read:
The Return of the Vane Heiress: How Catherine Sterling-Vane Built a Tech Empire in Six Months.
He touched her face on the glossy paper,
his fingers shaking.
"I'm sorry,"
he whispered to the empty room.
But the room didn't answer.
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The only sound was the thumping of the washing machines below,
cleaning the clothes of people who actually had a future.
