Chapter 8 - Derek Came Back Smiling
We did not enter the basement that night.
Anton wanted police present.
I agreed.
That alone proved how much I had changed in three weeks.
The next morning, the library director, city IT staff, an investigator from the state financial crimes unit, Julia, and I stood downstairs beneath fluorescent lights while shelves of old equipment gathered dust around us.
There were seventeen retired computers.
Derek had supposedly wiped twelve.
IT examined them.
Four still contained recoverable data.
One contained something far more important.
A spreadsheet.
Hundreds of names.
Addresses.
Phone numbers.
Birth dates.
Property information.
Notes.
Some notes were ordinary.
Widow.
Lives alone.
Adult son in California.
Others made me sick.
Trusts Grace strongly.
High savings likelihood.
Confused by online statements.
No nearby family.
I walked away from the screen.
Anton followed.
“Grace.”
“Don’t.”
“You didn’t create that.”
“I know.”
This time I meant it.
I finally knew.
The guilt did not disappear.
But guilt had begun turning into something stronger.
Purpose.
“How many names?” I asked.
“Three hundred twelve,” the investigator said.
Three hundred twelve.
My quiet little world.
Mapped.
Ranked.
Priced.
By noon, warrants were being prepared.
By three, Derek appeared at the library.
He walked through the front doors wearing a navy suit and the smile I had once planned to marry.
Renee saw him first.
She immediately stood.
“Absolutely not.”
Derek ignored her.
His eyes found me.
Then Anton.
Something flickered across his face.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“Grace.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I wanted to talk.”
“My attorney can talk to yours.”
Derek smiled sadly.
“When did you start speaking like him?”
Anton remained silent beside the circulation desk.
Derek looked at him.
“Mr. Marquetti.”
Anton nodded once.
“Mr. Shaw.”
The air tightened.
Derek turned back to me.
“I think you’re being manipulated.”
“By Anton?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Grace, you don’t know these people.”
“These people?”
“The Marquettis.”
Anton’s expression remained unreadable.
Derek lowered his voice.
“You think he’s helping you?”
“He is.”
“He’s protecting himself.”
“Maybe.”
That surprised Derek.
I continued.
“Which is why he opened his records.”
Derek’s smile faded slightly.
“You really believe that makes him clean?”
“No.”
Anton glanced at me.
I almost smiled.
“I believe evidence,” I said.
“And the evidence says what?”
“That you introduced seniors to companies that took their money.”
“I introduced people to legitimate advisers.”
“You wrote that I trusted them.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“You trusted me.”
The words hit.
Derek saw it.
For one second, triumph appeared in his eyes.
He had always been skilled at turning emotional truth into practical permission.
“You were my fiancée,” he continued. “We shared a life.”
“You shared my name.”
“I promoted your program.”
“You exploited it.”
His smile disappeared.
“Careful.”
Anton moved.
Not aggressively.
One step.
That was enough.
Derek looked toward him.
Anton’s voice was quiet.
“She doesn’t need your permission to speak.”
“This isn’t your relationship.”
“No.”
Anton’s gaze hardened.
“It stopped being yours when you left.”
The sentence landed.
Derek laughed once.
“You think she’ll survive your world?”
Anton did not answer.
I did.
“I survived yours.”
Derek looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something close to hatred.
Then it disappeared behind charm.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I stepped closer.
“Because if you threaten me in my library, Renee will probably beat you with a dictionary before Anton gets the chance.”
From behind the desk Renee said, “Hardcover.”
Even Anton nearly smiled.
Derek’s jaw tightened.
Then he walked out.
Nobody followed.
Ten minutes later Julia called.
“Derek’s attorney just contacted investigators.”
“What does he want?”
“To cooperate.”
Anton frowned.
“That was fast.”
Julia continued.
“He claims Victor Salvi organized everything.”
My stomach sank.
“He’s blaming Anton’s executive.”
“Yes.”
“And himself?”
“He says he was paid referral fees and believed the investments were legitimate.”
“Of course.”
“He also claims Grace approved the outreach partnerships.”
I stopped breathing.
Anton’s face changed.
“What evidence?”
Julia sighed.
“A contract.”
“What contract?”
“Apparently signed by Grace Holloway.”
I closed my eyes.
Another forgery.
But Julia’s next sentence was worse.
May you like
“This one was notarized.”
---
