Chapter Two: The Basement
Simone sat in the silence.
She wasn’t thinking about packing.
She was thinking about Harold.
Three years ago, Harold had a stroke.
It left him weak on one side. Struggling with his speech.
Dererick had wanted to put him in a nursing home immediately.
“He’s done. No point wasting money on someone who’s basically already gone.”
But Simone had insisted Harold come live with them.
She’d fought Dererick on it. That was rare for her back then.
Something about the way Dererick talked about his own father had made her sick.
Harold had built a successful manufacturing company from nothing.
He’d raised Dererick alone after his mother left.
And now Dererick wanted to dump him in some facility and forget about him.
So Harold moved into the downstairs bedroom.
Simone became his primary caregiver.
At first, it was hard.
Harold was frustrated by his condition. He couldn’t say the words he wanted to say. His right hand shook badly.
But Simone was patient.
She helped him with physical therapy exercises.
She learned to understand his halting speech.
She read to him every evening.
And slowly, Harold improved.
His speech got clearer.
His hands steadied.
The doctors were amazed.
Dererick never noticed. He was too busy at the company. Too busy with his new assistant, Vanessa.
During those three years, Simone and Harold had countless conversations.
He told her about building his business.
About the mistakes he’d made.
About his regrets with Dererick’s mother.
About his disappointment in the man Dererick had become.
“He used to be a good boy,” Harold said one evening, his words slow but clear.
“Somewhere along the way, he got greedy. Got mean.”
Simone had nodded, fighting back tears.
She was already suspecting Dererick’s affair by then.
“I see everything, you know,” Harold continued.
His blue eyes sharp despite his failing body.
“I see how he treats you. I see who he really is.”
“What can I do?” Simone had whispered.
“I have nothing. No money saved. No real career anymore. I gave it all up to support him.”
Harold reached out with his good hand. Squeezed hers.
“Trust me, sweetheart. Justice is coming. I promise you that.”
At the time, Simone hadn’t understood what he meant.
Harold had died three weeks later.
Peacefully. In his sleep.
Simone found him in the morning.
She wept like she’d lost her own father.
Dererick barely cried at the funeral.
He was too busy on his phone. Already planning for the inheritance.
Now, sitting alone in the bedroom, Simone remembered Harold’s promise.
Justice is coming.
She stood up. Walked to the window.
Outside, she could see Dererick’s Mercedes in the driveway.
Vanessa’s car pulled up behind it.
The woman got out wearing a tight red dress and heels.
Laughing at something on her phone.
Simone watched Dererick come outside to greet her.
He wrapped his arms around Vanessa.
Kissed her deeply.
Right there in the driveway where any neighbor could see.
Where Simone could see.
Vanessa looked up at the bedroom window.
She smiled.
It was a smile of victory. A smile that said, “I won.”
Simone didn’t look away.
She met Vanessa’s eyes and thought about Harold’s words again.
Justice is coming.
Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock, the lawyer would read the will.
Dererick was certain he knew what it said.
He’d been counting on it for three years. Ever since Harold got sick.
But Simone remembered something Dererick didn’t know.
About two weeks before Harold died, a lawyer had come to the house.
Not Dererick’s lawyer. A different one.
Harold had been very clear that he wanted privacy for the meeting.
Simone had helped Harold get dressed that day.
Walked him to the study.
Then left them alone.
When the lawyer left two hours later, Harold had seemed tired but satisfied.
“It’s done,” he’d said to Simone.
“Everything’s done now.”
She’d assumed he meant his will was finalized.
She hadn’t thought much about it.
But now, standing at the window watching her husband with his mistress, she wondered.
Harold had been a smart man. A careful man.
He built a multi-million dollar company through intelligence and planning.
Had he really left everything to the son who’d abandoned him?
To the son who’d stolen from the company?
To the son who’d treated his wife like trash?
Or had Harold seen something Dererick couldn’t see?
Simone took a deep breath.
She turned away from the window.
Opened her closet and pulled out a suitcase.
She’d pack tonight, like Dererick ordered.
But not because she was leaving defeated.
She’d pack because one way or another, her life was about to change.
Tomorrow at nine o’clock, she’d know the truth.
Tomorrow at nine o’clock, someone’s world was going to end.
And Simone was beginning to hope for the first time in months that it wouldn’t be hers.
