Chapter Three: The Night They Celebrated
She folded clothes mechanically.
Her mind drifting through the years of her marriage.
Ten years. A decade of her life given to a man who now couldn’t wait to throw her out.
She’d met Dererick at a business networking event.
She was twenty-six. Working as a junior analyst at a consulting firm.
He was thirty. Confident and charming.
Wearing an expensive suit and talking about the family business he’d inherit someday.
He’d approached her with a drink and a smile.
She’d been flattered by his attention.
Their courtship was intense.
Dererick pursued her aggressively. Fancy restaurants. Expensive gifts. Making her feel special.
He told her he’d never met anyone like her.
That she was different from other women.
That she understood him.
Looking back now, Simone could see the red flags she’d ignored.
The way Dererick talked down to servers at restaurants.
The way he dismissed her opinions if they differed from his.
The way he expected her to always be available but would cancel plans with her if something better came up.
But she’d been young and in love.
She convinced herself those things didn’t matter.
They got married after a year of dating.
Harold paid for a beautiful wedding.
Dererick’s father walked her down the aisle since her own parents had passed away years before.
She remembered Harold whispering to her at the altar.
“You can still run, you know. I won’t be offended.”
He’d been joking. Sort of.
But there was something serious in his eyes.
She laughed it off and married Dererick anyway.
The first few years weren’t terrible.
Dererick worked long hours at the company, but so did most ambitious men, she told herself.
She quit her job when he asked her to.
Agreeing that it made more sense for her to manage their home.
They’d have children soon anyway, Dererick said.
But children never came.
After three years of trying, they saw a fertility specialist.
The problem was Dererick’s low sperm count.
The doctor recommended treatments.
Dererick refused.
He became angry whenever she brought it up.
Eventually, he stopped sleeping with her altogether.
“It’s too stressful,” he’d said. “All this pressure to perform. Just drop it, Simone.”
So she dropped it.
She pushed down her dreams of being a mother.
Tried to be content with her role as Dererick’s wife.
Then Harold got sick. Everything changed.
When Harold moved in, Dererick’s true colors emerged fully.
He treated his father with contempt.
Speaking to him like he was an idiot child.
When Harold struggled to eat or dress himself in those early days after the stroke, Dererick would mutter about how pathetic it was.
Simone had been horrified.
This was Dererick’s father.
The man who’d raised him alone after his mother left.
The man who’d built the company Dererick now worked for.
The man who’d given Dererick every opportunity in life.
And Dererick treated him like garbage.
Caring for Harold gave Simone purpose again.
She threw herself into learning about stroke recovery. Physical therapy. Speech therapy.
She celebrated every small victory with Harold.
Every word he relearned.
Every step he took with less assistance.
During those quiet evenings reading to Harold, helping him with exercises, just talking about life, Simone felt more connected to him than she’d felt to Dererick in years.
Harold was kind.
He was grateful.
He saw her as a person. Not just an accessory.
And he’d known about the affair before she did.
Simone paused in her packing.
Remembering the day nine months ago when everything came crashing down.
She’d stopped by Dererick’s office to drop off lunch.
His assistant, Vanessa, had been away from her desk.
So Simone went straight to Dererick’s office door.
It was slightly open.
She heard them before she saw them.
Vanessa’s laugh. High and flirtatious.
Dererick’s voice. Warm in a way he never sounded with Simone anymore.
“When are you going to leave her?” Vanessa was saying.
“Soon,” Dererick replied. “Once my dad dies and I inherit everything. The prenup protects me completely. She’ll get nothing. Then I’m free.”
“We can be together now, baby. Who cares what she thinks? She’s so pathetic. She probably doesn’t even notice I’m never home.”
Vanessa giggled.
“She does seem pretty clueless. I can’t believe she bought that story about you working late all those nights.”
Simone stood frozen outside the door.
Then Vanessa said something that made her stomach turn.
“I still can’t believe we did it on your desk last week. What if she’d walked in?”
Dererick laughed.
“That might have been fun. The look on her face.”
Simone turned and walked away silently.
She made it to her car before she started shaking.
She drove home in a daze.
Sat in the driveway for an hour trying to process what she’d heard.
That evening, when Dererick came home, she watched him carefully.
He kissed her on the cheek absently. Like always.
He asked what was for dinner.
He complained about a problem at work.
All normal.
Then he announced he was going out with clients and wouldn’t be home until late.
She nodded and said nothing.
After he left, she went to Harold’s room.
The old man was reading with his good hand. Reading glasses perched on his nose.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked immediately.
Harold had always been able to read her.
She told him everything.
Harold listened without interrupting. His face growing darker with each word.
When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
“I knew he was cruel,” Harold finally said. “But I didn’t know he was this cruel. And I didn’t know about the girl.”
“What do I do?” Simone asked, tears finally falling.
“I have nothing, Harold. I gave up my career. I have no savings of my own. The prenup means I get nothing if we divorce. I’m trapped.”
Harold took her hand in his shaking one.
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not trapped.”
“Dererick thinks he’s won. He thinks once I’m gone, he’ll have everything and you’ll have nothing.”
“But he’s wrong.”
“How can he be wrong?”
“The will. The will isn’t what Dererick thinks it is.”
Simone looked at him in confusion.
“Dererick thinks I’m senile. He thinks I don’t know what’s going on. But I have friends. I have people who keep me informed.”
Harold’s eyes locked onto hers.
“And Dererick has been stealing from the company. He’s been embezzling money for two years. He thinks I don’t know. But I know everything.”
Simone’s eyes widened.
“He’s stealing from his own inheritance?”
“He’s greedy and stupid,” Harold said bluntly.
“He can’t wait for me to die naturally. He wants money now to spend on his girlfriend. So he’s been taking it.”
“I have proof. Bank records. Forged signatures. Everything.”
“Are you going to turn him in?”
Harold smiled. But it wasn’t a happy smile.
“Not yet. But I’ve made arrangements. The will reading is going to be very interesting when the time comes.”
“You just have to trust me and stay strong. Can you do that?”
Simone nodded even though she didn’t fully understand.
Now, months later, packing her clothes while Dererick and Vanessa laughed downstairs, she finally understood.
Harold had been planning something.
Something Dererick didn’t expect.
She just hoped it was enough to save her.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and tensed.
But they went past the bedroom toward Dererick’s room.
She heard the door close.
Then Vanessa’s laugh again. Louder now.
They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore.
Simone closed her suitcase.
Set it by the door.
Then she pulled out her phone and looked at the photos stored there.
Pictures of better times.
Except now she could see the truth in every image.
Dererick’s fake smile.
His hand barely touching her in group photos.
The distance in his eyes.
How had she been so blind?
She deleted the photos one by one.
That version of her life was over.
That naive woman who’d believed in love and trust was gone.
Tomorrow would reveal what came next.
She thought about Harold’s funeral. Just a month ago.
Dererick gave a short, emotionless eulogy about his father’s business success.
But when Simone spoke, she talked about Harold’s kindness. His humor. His strength.
She talked about the man he really was.
Afterward, Harold’s lawyer, a man named Thomas Patterson, had approached her quietly.
“Mrs. Bennett, I’ll see you at the will reading. Nine o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”
There was something meaningful in his tone. Something that made her pay attention.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
He nodded and handed her his card.
“If you need anything before then, call me. Day or night.”
Dererick hadn’t noticed the exchange.
He was too busy accepting condolences from business associates who probably didn’t even like him.
Simone kept the lawyer’s card.
It was in her wallet now. A small piece of hope.
She lay down on the bed, fully clothed.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
For better or worse, her life would change at nine o’clock.
She just had to survive one more night.
Downstairs, she heard Vanessa’s laugh again.
Followed by Dererick’s.
They were probably drinking Harold’s expensive wine.
Celebrating their victory before it even happened.
Let them celebrate, Simone thought.
Let them think they’ve won.
Because if Harold had taught her anything during those three years of care, it was that the smartest people were often the quietest.
They watched. They planned. They waited for the right moment.
And Harold had been a very smart man.
