Chapter 4 - The Revenge That Began Before Derek Met Me
Derek's father had supposedly died when Derek was twelve.
That was the story I had always been told.
A heart attack.
Sudden.
Tragic.
Patricia's photograph suggested there was more.
My father stared at it for several seconds.
"Robert Hale."
"You remember him now?" Patricia asked.
"Of course I remember him."
I looked between them.
"Dad?"
My father exhaled slowly.
"Robert was one of Mercer Biomedical's early distributors."
Patricia laughed.
"Distributor?"
"He had a regional contract."
"He built half your father's market."
Dad didn't argue.
Instead, he said:
"He also stole from us."
The ballroom had become unnaturally quiet.
Two hundred guests were no longer watching a wedding disaster.
They were watching a twenty-year-old family war emerge from underneath it.
Dad explained that Robert Hale had diverted medical equipment into unauthorized resale channels.
Some units eventually appeared overseas with altered serial numbers.
When Mercer Biomedical discovered it, Robert's contract was terminated.
"He lost his company," Patricia said.
"He was under criminal investigation."
"He lost everything."
"He made choices."
"And then he died."
Derek stared at my father.
"You told me he had business trouble."
Patricia looked at her son.
"I protected you."
"From what?"
"From knowing what they did."
I stepped forward.
"What does that have to do with me?"
Patricia's gaze moved to my ruined dress.
"Your father kept his company. His reputation. His house. His family."
She pointed toward herself.
"I got collection notices and funeral bills."
"So you decided to steal my shares twenty years later?"
"I decided your family shouldn't keep everything Robert helped build."
Derek looked sick.
"Mom."
She turned on him.
"Don't suddenly grow a conscience because your little plan failed."
He stared at her.
"My plan?"
"You think I spent eighteen months listening to you complain about Claire's boundaries because I cared about your dating life?"
That sentence hit harder than the cake ever had.
Derek's jaw clenched.
"You introduced us."
Patricia smiled thinly.
"Yes."
I remembered the charity gala.
Derek had "accidentally" taken my coat.
We laughed.
Patricia later claimed she hadn't realized we would both attend.
Another lie.
Derek looked at me.
For once, he appeared genuinely shocked.
"Claire, I didn't know that part."
I believed him.
And hated that I believed him.
Because there was a difference between Derek being used and Derek being innocent.
He wasn't innocent.
He still controlled me.
Still frightened me.
Still tried to manipulate my signature.
But suddenly I could see that Patricia had also been shaping him.
Just as he tried to shape me.
Patricia took a champagne flute from an abandoned table.
"You were supposed to marry her, Derek. Gain voting influence. Help Colin force the sale. Clean and simple."
My father stepped closer.
"And the prenup?"
Patricia's smile disappeared.
That reaction interested me.
"What about it?" I asked.
She looked at Derek.
"You weren't supposed to sign hers."
I turned slowly toward my husband.
Derek looked at the floor.
"What does she mean?"
No answer.
"Derek."
His shoulders tightened.
"My attorney sent me a different version."
The ballroom seemed to tilt.
"What different version?"
He swallowed.
"One without the misconduct clause."
"But you signed mine."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because two hours before the rehearsal dinner, I found out my mother's lawyer had added something else to my version."
Patricia's face went rigid.
"What?"
Derek laughed without humor.
"You don't know?"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
"I took pictures."
He opened an image.
A clause from another prenuptial agreement.
It stated that if I died while legally married to Derek, certain voting shares subject to a marital transfer would remain under his control pending estate resolution.
My blood went cold.
Derek looked at Patricia.
"I thought you were setting me up to control the company if Claire left me."
Then he looked at me.
"I didn't realize the clause mattered more if you couldn't leave at all."
Nobody moved.
Patricia's hand trembled around her champagne glass.
For eighteen months, Derek had frightened me.
May you like
But now, for the first time, I saw fear in him.
And it was directed at his own mother.
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