Chapter 9: The Last Thing He Said
Derek was arrested on a Tuesday.
I wasn't there when it happened.
I was in Grace's office reviewing the civil filing when she got the call from Detective Marsh.
She stepped into the hallway to take it, and I watched her through the glass panel in the door — the way she stood, the single nod, the way she came back in without rushing.
"They executed the warrant this morning," she said.
"His attorney is already asking for a continuance."
"Did they get everything?"
"Greer's records, Derek's personal accounts, three years of email correspondence between them." She sat down.
"And Derek's own files.
He kept records, Chloe.
Detailed ones.
Names, asset amounts, timelines.
He tracked all of it."
I looked at the window.
"He kept records," I said.
"Organized by year," Grace said.
"There's a fourth name we hadn't found yet.
A woman in Portland.
Detective Marsh's office is contacting her today."
I thought about that woman in Portland.
I thought about her finding out on a Tuesday, from a detective's phone call, that the man she had trusted had a file on her.
A line in a spreadsheet.
An asset amount next to her name.
"Is she okay?" I asked.
"I don't know yet," Grace said.
My phone buzzed.
I looked at the screen.
It was Derek.
Grace saw my face.
"You don't have to answer."
"I know," I said.
I answered anyway.
"Chloe." His voice was different from any version I had heard before — not the cold dominion of the brunch, not the false reason of the car ride, not the thin fear of the Saturday morning call.
This was something stripped down and exposed.
"I need you to tell them it was a misunderstanding.
I need you to say the documents were explained to you and you understood them."
"They were explained to me," I said.
"By your lawyer.
Who you paid to explain them in a way that served you."
"Chloe —"
"Derek," I said, "there are four of us."
Silence.
"Four women," I said.
"You kept records.
The records have our names and our asset amounts and the dates you planned to move the money.
Detective Marsh has all of it."
The silence stretched long enough that I thought he might hang up.
"I can fix this," he said finally.
"You can't," I said.
Not with anger.
Just as a fact.
"My mother had nothing to do with —"
"She left me a voicemail," I said.
"On my wedding night.
Threatening me by name and referencing 'the last one.' That's her voice, Derek.
That's her words."
Another silence.
"What do you want?" he said.
And underneath the question was something I had not heard from him before — the sound of a man who had run out of moves and knew it.
I thought about the answer for a moment.
"I want the annulment filed by the end of the week," I said.
"I want the prenup declared void.
I want Diane Paulsen's transfer agreement reversed.
I want Rebecca's." I paused.
"And I want you to tell Detective Marsh the truth about Martin Greer's role.
All of it.
Not a version of it."
"And if I do that —"
"I'm not offering you anything," I said.
"I'm telling you what needs to happen.
What happens to you after that is between you and the DA."
He didn't speak for a long moment.
"You're not what I thought you were," he said.
"No," I said.
"I'm not."
I ended the call.
Grace was watching me.
She didn't say anything for a moment.
Then: "The annulment will be straightforward given the fraud finding.
The prenup is already effectively void — we'll make it official.
Diane's transfer will take a little longer, but Greer's cooperation makes it possible."
"He'll cooperate with Marsh?" I asked.
"Greer already is," she said.
"Since Wednesday.
He's trying to reduce his own exposure." She picked up her pen.
"Derek's cooperation would accelerate things, but we don't need it.
We have enough."
I nodded.
Outside Grace's window, the city moved in its ordinary way — cars, pedestrians, a delivery truck double-parked on the corner.
The world that had continued without interruption through all of it.
"Grace," I said, "what happens to Brenda?"
Grace set her pen down.
"She's been interviewed twice," she said.
"The voicemail establishes knowing participation.
Rebecca's testimony about how she was recruited adds pattern evidence.
The DA is building the case carefully — they want it solid before they move." She looked at me.
"It will come, Chloe.
It will just come on its own schedule."
I picked up my bag.
May you like
"That's enough," I said.
And I meant it.
