Chapter 4 - Derek Finally Called, but the First Thing He Asked Was Whether Nathan Had Told Me About the Money.
Derek called from Montreal.
Not me.
Amara.
There.
His attorney had reached out first.
Good.
No romantic airport scene.
No voice message asking me to wait.
Lawyers.
Derek had flown to Montreal Saturday morning using his passport and a ticket purchased two days earlier.
There.
So he had planned an exit before wedding day.
That hurt.
There.
Then he remained in Canada while counsel negotiated his voluntary return.
Not fugitive mastermind.
A frightened man with money, bad judgment, and enough access to make fear expensive for everyone else.
Good.
His attorney, Felicia Warren, said Derek wanted to speak with me.
Amara asked:
“Do you?”
There.
I said no.
Then yes.
Then no.
There.
Finally:
“Only with both lawyers on call.”
Good.
Phone.
Not in person.
No surprise.
The call happened Friday at 3:00.
I sat in Amara’s office.
There.
Derek’s voice came through speaker.
“Elena.”
My entire body reacted.
There.
Two years.
Hundreds of mornings.
His toothbrush.
His hand at small of my back when crossing streets.
There.
Then church.
Passport.
Forged signature.
I hated memory for keeping tenderness after betrayal.
“Hi.”
I said.
There.
He breathed.
Then:
“Did Nathan tell you about the vendor accounts?”
There.
Not:
I’m sorry.
Money first.
That told me more than apology would have.
“Yes.”
There.
“And the guarantee?”
Pause.
There.
“Yes.”
Good.
He knew.
I closed eyes.
“Why?”
There.
“Elena—”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“You do not get to start with context.”
There.
“Why did you put my tax ID on a fake company?”
Long silence.
Then:
“Because I needed a vendor that wouldn’t be flagged as related to me.”
There.
There.
“And mine looked clean.”
“Yes.”
There.
My stomach turned.
“Why did you move thirty-five thousand from our home account?”
“I was going to replace it.”
There.
Of course.
“When?”
“After one deal cleared.”
There.
“What deal?”
His lawyer interrupted.
“Derek, do not discuss pending matters beyond agreed scope.”
Good.
Amara looked at me.
I nodded.
Boundaries.
Derek said:
“I’m sorry.”
There.
“For which part?”
He inhaled.
“For using your information.”
There.
“For moving money.”
There.
“For leaving.”
There.
“For humiliating you.”
Good.
Specific enough.
Then:
“Did you love me?”
The question escaped.
Amara looked at me.
Not legal.
Still mine.
Derek went quiet.
“Yes.”
There.
I laughed bitterly.
“That is a terrible answer.”
“I know.”
There.
“Then why?”
“Because loving you did not fix what I was doing.”
There.
That answer surprised me.
Good.
He continued.
“I kept thinking once we were married I would stop.”
There.
“There it is.”
I whispered.
There.
Marriage as reset button.
Good.
“I thought if I could get through the audit, close the credit line, put money back—”
“You thought marriage would make you honest?”
There.
“No.”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
Good.
At least.
Then he said:
“I was scared Nathan would take everything.”
There.
My anger shifted.
“Everything what?”
“My board seat.”
There.
“My trust distributions.”
There.
“My place in company.”
There.
“Your freedom?”
I asked.
Silence.
Good.
“So you stole because your brother might make you accountable?”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
There.
“Of course not.”
Good.
Then:
“Was Nathan why you left?”
There.
Derek inhaled.
“Partly.”
Here it comes.
Rivalry.
No.
I would not let him.
“What is other part?”
There.
“You.”
My stomach dropped.
“What about me?”
There.
“I couldn’t stand at altar knowing what I’d done.”
There.
That hurt more than if he said he did not love me.
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
There.
“Before church.”
“Yes.”
“Before taking my money.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Then Derek said:
“I knew you’d leave.”
There.
There.
Not love.
Control.
“You wanted the marriage more than you wanted my informed choice.”
There.
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Good.
Amara watched me carefully.
I breathed.
Then:
“Did you plan to come back?”
There.
“I don’t know.”
There.
“Did you plan to take me with you?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Good.
No kidnapping trope.
“Did you have another woman?”
“No.”
There.
His attorney did not interrupt.
Likely true or at least not contradicted.
Good.
“Another man?”
“No.”
There.
“Was there anyone?”
“No.”
Good.
Not affair.
Money and cowardice enough.
Then:
“Why Montreal?”
“Friend had apartment.”
There.
“Which friend?”
Felicia said:
“Outside scope.”
Good.
Fine.
Then:
“Did anyone at Sterling help you create fake vendor?”
Pause.
There.
“Yes.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
Felicia interrupted.
“Derek cannot discuss uncharged third parties on this call.”
There.
Amara nodded.
Correct.
Good.
So not solo.
Important.
Then Derek said:
“I will cooperate.”
There.
“With whom?”
“Company investigation.”
There.
“Authorities.”
There.
“And restitution.”
Good.
No promise he can fix.
Then:
“Elena.”
I looked at speaker.
“What?”
“I heard about Nathan.”
There.
My stomach tightened.
“About what?”
“The church.”
There.
“Someone sent video.”
Of course.
There.
Derek laughed once.
Not kindly.
“He offered to marry you.”
There.
“Yes.”
“Did you say yes?”
I stared.
“Do you think we would be on this call if I had?”
There.
“I don’t know.”
Good.
Then:
“Does he want you?”
There.
My face warmed.
Amara’s expression became professionally blank.
“Not your business.”
There.
“Of course it is.”
“No.”
Good.
“I’m your—”
He stopped.
There.
What?
Fiancé?
Not anymore.
“You are not anything that gives you authority over that answer.”
There.
Silence.
Then:
“He always wins.”
There.
There it was.
I closed eyes.
“No.”
I said.
“What?”
“This is not about Nathan winning.”
There.
“You left.”
There.
“You forged my name.”
There.
“You used my tax information.”
There.
“You moved our money.”
There.
“If Nathan never existed, those things would still be true.”
Good.
Derek breathed hard.
I continued.
“Do not make me the trophy in a competition you have been having with your brother since childhood.”
There.
No answer.
Good.
Then:
“I hope you cooperate.”
There.
“I hope you return what you can.”
There.
“I hope you take responsibility for what you can’t.”
There.
“But I do not want personal contact again unless I initiate it.”
There.
Derek whispered:
“Elena.”
“No.”
There.
“This is me ending call.”
Good.
I hung up.
My hands shook.
Amara gave me water.
Then:
“How do you feel?”
There.
“I hate that question.”
“Most people do.”
Good.
I cried anyway.
There.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because some endings do not stop being grief just because leaving was correct.
Good.
Then investigation moved.
Derek returned to New York voluntarily three days later through counsel.
There.
No dramatic airport arrest.
He was interviewed.
His passport surrendered under court conditions after charges later filed? Not yet.
Good.
Sterling internal audit identified the person who helped onboard fake vendors.
There.
A procurement manager named Lewis Brandt.
Forty-six.
Not family.
There.
He had approved shell vendor documents in exchange for payments.
There.
Derek paid him from Sterling Capital Services.
Good.
Lewis also helped two other employees circumvent thresholds.
There.
So the fraud chain included Derek, corrupt procurement manager, weak decentralized approval controls, and managers who failed to notice duplicate services.
There.
Not one mastermind.
Good.
Total unauthorized payments connected to Derek reached $1.7 million.
There.
Of that, $248,000 through fake Martinez entity.
There.
$312,000 through friend’s vendor.
There.
Remaining through two shells.
Good.
Where money went?
Some to speculative investments.
There.
Some to gambling debts.
There.
Some to cover prior losses.
There.
Some still frozen.
Good.
Derek was not penniless.
He had assets.
Restitution possible.
Good.
Then the apartment fund.
His brokerage account still held eighteen thousand traceable from our thirty-five.
There.
Emergency court order froze disputed amount.
Good.
The rest had been used.
Recovery later.
Fine.
Then forged guarantee.
Lender’s fraud department suspended enforcement against me pending investigation.
There.
Credit bureaus flagged.
Good.
Not instant disappearance.
Paperwork.
Affidavits.
Signature samples.
There.
My life became forms.
Good.
Nathan did not call me.
There.
He kept promise.
His lawyers communicated through Amara.
Then one evening, two weeks later, he appeared at my flower shop.
There.
Not inside.
Outside.
Through window.
Holding nothing.
No bouquet.
Good.
I saw him.
My heart jumped.
I stepped outside.
“Are you violating your own rule?”
There.
He almost smiled.
“You said no personal contact restriction.”
Good.
“True.”
Then:
“Why are you here?”
He looked at window.
“Your mother called my office.”
There.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“She asked whether the Sterling family intended to pay the canceled reception invoices.”
There.
Of course she did.
Rosa Martinez.
Weaponized practicality.
Good.
“What did you say?”
“That Sterling family will reimburse documented nonrefundable wedding expenses attributable to Derek’s abandonment.”
There.
I stared.
“No.”
There.
Nathan nodded.
“Then no.”
Good.
“That easy?”
“It should be.”
There.
“What if my mother accepts?”
“Expenses were paid partly by both families.”
There.
“We can reimburse her share if she wants.”
Fair.
Good.
“My money?”
“You decide.”
There.
I thought about twelve thousand venue.
Flowers I had sourced wholesale.
Dress.
Photographer.
There.
This was not damages.
Just expenses.
Was accepting reimbursement dependence?
No.
Derek caused.
Family offered.
Still.
“I’ll let Amara review.”
Good.
Nathan nodded.
Then he looked at shop.
“You’re closing?”
“Yes.”
There.
“Do you want dinner?”
My chest stopped.
There.
Too soon.
Investigation active.
Derek charges pending.
Company still involved.
I said:
“No.”
Good.
Nathan accepted.
Then:
“Do you want coffee?”
I laughed.
“No.”
There.
“Walk?”
“Nathan.”
“I’m calibrating.”
There.
That made me laugh harder than I wanted.
Good.
He smiled.
Then serious.
“I miss talking to you.”
There.
“We barely talked before.”
“I know.”
There.
“Then what do you miss?”
His eyes held mine.
“The possibility.”
There.
Dangerous.
I looked away.
“Not yet.”
There.
“Okay.”
Good.
He stepped back.
Then:
“Your mother is formidable.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
There.
“She threatened to invoice me for centerpieces.”
Good.
“She will.”
There.
Nathan left.
No driver door held? likely black car. Fine.
I watched him go.
Then returned to shop.
On worktable were twelve bridal bouquets for Saturday weddings.
There.
Other people still believed in ceremonies.
Good.
I did too.
May you like
Just not as evidence that someone would become honest afterward.
That lesson had cost enough.
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