Chapter 13 - Derek’s Perfect Life Began to Crack
Derek was arrested on a Tuesday morning.
Not for everything.
Not yet.
Initial charges involved fraud, identity misuse, conspiracy, and obstruction allegations connected to records investigators believed he attempted to conceal.
The news spread within an hour.
His professional photographs disappeared from company websites.
Conference organizers removed his biography.
People who had praised him publicly began posting statements saying they had barely known him.
I watched reputation perform its oldest trick.
Everyone stepped away before the body hit the floor.
The photograph police released showed Derek entering court wearing a gray suit.
He looked exactly like himself.
That unsettled me.
Some part of me had expected truth to alter his face.
It did not.
People who hurt us rarely become visibly monstrous once we understand them.
That would make life easier.
Instead, Derek still had the same eyes I once woke beside.
The same mouth that had proposed to me beneath Christmas lights.
The same hands that held mine at my father’s funeral.
A person could contain tenderness and cruelty.
That was more frightening than believing cruelty erased everything before it.
Ruth watched the news with me.
“He looks tired,” she said.
“Good.”
Ruth smiled.
“You are becoming mean.”
“I’m experimenting.”
“Don’t overdo it.”
The library received dozens of calls.
Some supportive.
Some angry.
One man accused us of knowingly helping scammers.
Another demanded the city shut down our entire senior program.
I understood his anger.
That did not make it fair.
The library director placed me on temporary administrative leave.
Not punishment, he insisted.
Protection.
I hated it anyway.
“My entire identity is being investigated,” I told Anton that night.
We were sitting in his apartment.
Unlike his office, his home surprised me.
Books everywhere.
An old record player.
Photographs of Elena.
A ridiculous green armchair he claimed was comfortable and everyone else agreed was ugly.
“Then build an identity nobody else gets to define,” he said.
“That sounds like something printed on an expensive candle.”
“I regret speaking.”
I leaned against him.
For the first time in weeks, we were quiet without searching documents.
“I don’t know what happens after this.”
“With work?”
“With anything.”
Anton nodded.
“Neither do I.”
“You’re supposed to have answers.”
“Why?”
“You’re Anton Marquetti.”
“That mostly means people assume I have answers.”
“What do you actually have?”
“Attorneys.”
I laughed.
He kissed my forehead.
Then his phone rang.
Julia.
Anton answered.
His expression changed.
“Say that again.”
I sat up.
“What?”
He put the call on speaker.
Julia’s voice filled the room.
“The hardware wallet is linked to multiple accounts. Preliminary tracing suggests more than eight million dollars flowed through them.”
My heart pounded.
“Can it be recovered?” I asked.
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Too early.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Victim funds, consulting payments, shell companies.”
Anton leaned forward.
“And my companies?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
His face closed.
“How much?”
“At least one point six million moved through invoices tied to Marquetti Development.”
Anton stood.
I watched shame move through him.
Not guilt.
Shame.
I recognized the difference now.
“Was Anton personally involved?” I asked.
“No evidence of that.”
Anton looked toward me.
I deliberately repeated his own words.
“You didn’t know.”
His jaw tightened.
“Apparently ignorance is fashionable.”
Julia continued.
“There’s more.”
Of course.
There was always more.
“Victor claims Derek planned to use the Marquetti connection as insurance.”
“How?” Anton asked.
“If the scheme collapsed, they would leak enough payment records to make it look like you controlled the whole operation.”
Anton laughed once.
No humor.
“So I was the villain waiting in storage.”
“Exactly.”
I stared.
Derek had built escape routes through everybody.
Me.
Victor.
Anton.
Each person became a shield.
“He doesn’t trust anyone,” I said.
Anton looked at me.
“No.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“It usually is.”
The next morning Derek’s attorney requested a meeting.
Not with prosecutors.
With me.
Julia immediately said no.
I said yes.
Anton said something in Italian that I assumed was not polite.
“You do not need to see him.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I need him to see me.”
Anton stared.
“That sounds dangerously poetic.”
“I learned from you.”
“Terrible habit.”
The meeting occurred through attorneys at a secure conference room.
Derek entered wearing no tie.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Grace.”
I felt nothing.
That surprised me.
No longing.
No grief.
Just recognition.
He sat.
“You look well.”
“So do you.”
“Liar.”
“For once.”
His smile faded.
“What do you want?”
“You requested the meeting.”
“I wanted to explain.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“I’m not here for an explanation.”
He leaned back.
“Then why?”
I looked directly into the face of the man who had once convinced me my life was too small.
“I wanted you to know I understand.”
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his expression.
“Understand what?”
“Why you needed me to believe I was insignificant.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“If I understood what I had built, I might have protected it.”
Silence.
“You didn’t leave because my life was too small.”
I continued.
“You left because your scheme was getting too big.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you needed distance before it collapsed.”
“Is that what Marquetti told you?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“That’s what the evidence told me.”
Derek looked away first.
And that was the exact moment his perfect life began to crack.
Not when police arrested him.
Not when accounts froze.
May you like
When he realized I no longer required his version of reality.
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