Chapter 13 - THREE YEARS LATER
I saw Derek again at a fundraiser.
Three years after the belt.
Not Sloane’s kind of glossy corporate party.
A domestic-violence resource center was opening expanded transitional housing.
My firm had donated branding work.
Derek had donated anonymously through another organization, though someone told me afterward.
He stood near the exit.
We noticed each other.
He did not approach.
That mattered.
I walked to him.
My choice.
“Hi.”
“Elena.”
He almost said Callahan.
Stopped.
“How are you?”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Better than I deserve.”
I frowned.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Turn accountability into permanent self-hatred. It’s still about you.”
He looked surprised.
Then laughed softly.
“Fair.”
We talked for six minutes.
His company?
No longer his.
He retained a minority investment but no management role.
Teaching?
He liked it.
Sloane?
No contact.
Probation?
Completed.
Professional consequences?
Ongoing in reputation, not legal status.
He asked about Mercer & Brooks.
I told him.
He smiled.
“You were always better at that than you thought.”
“No.”
He looked confused.
“I was better at it than you wanted me to think.”
His smile disappeared.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
No defense.
We said goodbye.
I walked away feeling strangely light.
May you like
Not because forgiveness had arrived.
Because I could stand near him without becoming the woman on the hardwood floor.
