Tears trembled on her lashes. “You would really destroy Derek like that?”
“You destroyed him,” I said. “I’m just holding up a mirror.”
She stared at the table, breathing hard. I could see the calculation flickering behind her eyes.
“I’ll transfer the money,” she said at last. “And I’ll write what you asked.”
“Patricia will expect it within a week. In return, I will keep what I know to myself.”
“For as long as you honor our agreement.”
She nodded, defeated. “You have my word.”
At the door, she hesitated. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
I considered her: the trembling hands, the drawn mouth, the haunted eyes.
The woman who had allowed fear to calcify into cruelty.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know that my ability to forgive you isn’t your right.”
“It’s my choice. And it won’t be bought with money.”
She nodded, tears spilling over again. “I understand.”
At that moment, I realized she did. For the first time, Eleanor understood that there were things in the world she could not purchase, bully, or manipulate.
The money hit my account three days later.
Patty called me, voice buzzing with a mixture of outrage and admiration.
“I’ve seen some wild stuff in family law, but extorting your ex-mother-in-law for two point three million and a notarized confession may be my new gold standard.”
“I didn’t extort her,” I protested halfheartedly. “I offered her a mutually beneficial agreement.”
“That’s what extortion is,” she said, amused. “How’s the confession?”
“Thorough,” Patty said. “It reads like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown trying to get right with God.”
“She admits to knowing about Victor’s paternity, about paying Amber, about pressuring Derek not to ask questions.”
“She even mentions how she used your infertility to deflect from Derek’s medical issues.”
Somewhere in my chest, an old knot loosened. “So if she ever tries to hurt me again…”
“We have a nuclear option,” Patty said. “You’re in control now, Carrie.”
The Fallout in Houston
It felt good. Not in a gloating way.
In a quieter way. Like finally having a safety net after years of walking a tightrope.
I didn’t buy an island. I did, however, upgrade my apartment to one with two bedrooms and a little terrace.
Where I could drink my coffee and watch the city wake up.
I invested in my company, taking on bigger projects. Pushing myself in ways I’d once been too afraid to try.
For the first time in a long time, I made decisions without wondering what the Mitchells would think.
As for Derek, the universe and a furious woman named Rebecca Chin took care of that.
Rebecca was Victor’s wife. Late thirties, smart, quiet.
A dermatologist with a thriving practice. She had no idea her husband had fathered twins with a con artist.
I could have told her back then. But I’d waited.
Until Eleanor came to my door. Until I had her confession.
Until the boys were old enough that the truth wouldn’t hurt their basic needs.
Then, one evening, I dialed Rebecca’s office number.
“This is Dr. Chin,” she answered.
“Hello, Dr. Chin. My name is Caroline. I used to be married to your husband’s business partner.”
There was a pause. “Derek Mitchell.”
“Yes.”
“I see. Is this about the recent developments?”
“My call is about the twins and about your husband’s involvement with their mother.”
“I have documentation. DNA tests. Photos. Financial records.”
“All proving that your husband and Amber have been involved for years and that he is the biological father of her twins. Not Derek.”
When Rebecca spoke again, her tone was calm. Too calm.
“I would like to see those documents.”
“I can email them to you.”
“Email is fine,” she said. “And Caroline?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
There was a level of contained fury in those two words that made me almost pity Victor.
Almost.
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