Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT DEREK LOST HIS PERFECT LIFE
Clara called me at 8:11 p.m.
This time she wasn't pretending to be at her mother's bedside.
“Emily, what have you done?”
Her voice was sharp enough to make me pull the phone away from my ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Our resort is demanding another payment method. Derek's company card isn't working, and he's been on the phone with lawyers for two hours.”
I looked at Nolan.
He simply raised an eyebrow.
“Why would Derek's company card be paying for your vacation?”
Silence.
Then Clara laughed nervously.
“You know how complicated business travel is.”
“I do.”
“Emily, please don't make this into something ugly.”
I almost laughed.
She had spent the previous night in a luxury hotel with my fiancé.
Apparently, I was the one making things ugly.
“Clara, I know you're in Cabo.”
The silence that followed was extraordinary.
I continued.
“I saw you at the airport.”
A small sound escaped her.
Then she whispered, “Emily—”
“I saw you kissing Derek.”
She started crying.
Immediately.
As if tears could rearrange the past.
“It's not what you think.”
I closed my eyes.
“What exactly would make it different?”
“It just happened.”
“For eleven months?”
She stopped crying.
That told me enough.
I didn't shout.
Didn't insult her.
Didn't give her an opportunity to describe me as a jealous woman who had lost control.
“You will communicate with Bellwether's lawyers about the consulting contracts. Anything personal between us is finished.”
“Emily, don't do this.”
I ended the call.
Then I sat very still.
Nolan didn't speak.
He knew there was nothing useful to say.
Ten minutes later, Clara's mother called.
Mrs. Whitfield had spoken to her daughter.
She knew about Derek.
She knew Clara had lied about being sick.
She was devastated.
“I raised her better than this, Emily.”
I swallowed.
“I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”
“No, sweetheart. You don't apologize for what my daughter did.”
Her voice broke.
Then she told me something I hadn't expected.
Clara had borrowed money from her family earlier that year.
Forty thousand dollars.
She claimed she was opening an event-planning company.
But Whitfield Strategic Solutions had already been receiving substantial payments from Bellwether.
“Where did the money go?” I asked.
Mrs. Whitfield didn't know.
Then she added:
“Clara told us Derek planned to invest in a resort.”
I felt cold.
“What resort?”
“She said something about California.”
California.
Crescent Bay.
The name suddenly sounded less arbitrary.
After the call, I sat beside Nolan and opened the photograph from the airport again.
Derek and Clara looked happy.
Carefree.
Certain.
They thought the rest of us existed outside their private little world.
For the first time, I understood something painful.
Their happiness had been built partly on my trust.
I had given Derek access to the business.
Given Clara access to my home.
Given both of them the benefit of every doubt.
They had mistaken that trust for permission.
Then Olivia called Nolan.
She had traced Clara's family's forty-thousand-dollar loan.
The money had been deposited into a personal account.
Two days later, almost the entire amount went toward a deposit on a property in Laguna Beach.
The property was registered through Crescent Bay Holdings.
I stared at the photographs Olivia sent.
Ocean views.
White walls.
An infinity pool.
A beautiful bedroom overlooking the Pacific.
It was exactly the kind of house Derek and I used to dream about buying after Bellwether became successful.
Then Olivia sent the purchase application.
It listed two intended occupants.
Derek Lawson.
Clara Whitfield.
May you like
But the most disturbing detail was the proposed closing date.
Three days after my wedding.
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