Chapter 4 - Emerald
Five days after the bus stop, I stood in Catherine Wilmington’s dressing room wearing emerald silk.
I hated it.
Not dress.
My reflection.
I looked like someone who knew what she was doing.
I did not.
Margaret adjusted waist.
“You’re breathing like we’re going to war.”
“Maybe we are.”
From chair near window, Catherine said:
“No.”
She wore black satin and diamonds.
White cane rested across knees.
“We are going to a children’s hospital fundraiser.”
Then:
“If Derek commits emotional suicide in public, that is his choice.”
I smiled despite fear.
The gala was held at the Meridian Grand Hotel downtown.
One of largest annual charity events.
Sterling Crown Automotive sponsored a table every year.
Derek never missed because rich customers attended.
Brenda Sloan, his boss and general manager, always attended too.
The hotel receipts we found showed Derek and Brenda had spent nights together in Chicago, Miami, and Nashville.
No intimate proof needed.
Two adults, same rooms, same dates.
Texts from joint phone backups? We didn't have his messages yet.
Still.
I knew.
Catherine had no right to expose affair publicly.
Neither did I need.
The gala mattered for another reason.
Wilmington Foundation was lead donor.
Catherine was honorary chair.
And Wilmington Private Credit’s loan compliance counsel had informed Sterling Crown’s board that afternoon of potential undisclosed related party payments to Briarline Consulting.
No accusation.
Preservation notice.
Audit rights reserved.
Derek did not know I knew that.
Then Thomas opened car door.
Catherine held arm.
“You can leave at any point.”
“What if he stops me?”
“Thomas.”
Thomas said:
“He won’t.”
Not threat.
Presence.
Security had been briefed that Olivia was guest of Catherine and requested no physical contact from Derek if conflict.
Good.
Then Catherine leaned toward me.
“For tonight, if anyone asks, you are my granddaughter Alexandra.”
I laughed nervously.
“That is ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“Why Alexandra?”
“Because Olivia looks like someone Derek thinks he owns.”
My breath stopped.
“Alexandra looks like someone Catherine Wilmington invited.”
Social disguise.
Not legal.
Then:
“If anyone important needs truth, we tell them.”
“Okay.”
We entered.
Photographers shouted Catherine’s name.
She ignored.
Thomas on right.
Me on left.
“Smile,” Catherine whispered.
“I thought you couldn’t see.”
“I can hear your face.”
I laughed.
Flash.
Then ballroom.
Champagne.
String quartet.
Donors.
I saw Derek near bar.
Dark suit.
One hand on Brenda’s back.
Brenda Sloan was forty one, elegant, blonde, confident.
Derek leaned to whisper.
She laughed.
Then he saw me.
His champagne glass slipped.
Hit floor.
Broke.
People turned.
He came fast.
“Olivia?”
Catherine tightened hand around my arm.
Derek stopped three feet away.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I said:
“Attending.”
“With her?”
Catherine lifted chin.
“And you are?”
He stared.
“Derek Bennett.”
“Ah.”
Her tone made his name sound like plumbing problem.
“My granddaughter has mentioned you.”
He looked at me.
“Granddaughter?”
I nearly smiled.
“Alexandra,” Catherine said.
Derek’s face twisted.
“What game is this?”
He reached for my wrist.
Catherine’s cane came between.
A sharp horizontal movement.
It struck his forearm enough to knock hand away, not injure.
Thomas stepped closer.
Catherine’s voice dropped.
“Touch my granddaughter again and the next person explaining your behavior will bill by the hour.”
Derek looked around.
People watching.
His worst nightmare.
Brenda approached.
“Derek.”
Then to me:
“Olivia, perhaps this isn’t appropriate.”
I looked.
“You mean because you’re here with my husband?”
Her face froze.
No need further.
Derek hissed:
“Come outside.”
“No.”
“I said come outside.”
Catherine murmured:
“That tone sounds familiar.”
Then Thomas handed me a black folder.
My hands shook.
Inside:
Hotel receipts.
Joint account withdrawals.
Briarline filings.
The false signature page.
The pending international wire.
I placed papers on Sterling Crown’s sponsor table.
Not throwing at guests.
Directly in front of Derek.
“You took my phone at four thirty five.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“At four forty three, Briarline’s bank sent an authentication code to my phone.”
Brenda looked at him.
“At four forty five, someone entered it.”
Derek’s mouth opened.
“And at four forty one, a two hundred fifty thousand dollar transfer had been initiated from a company registered in my name.”
Brenda whispered:
“Derek.”
He grabbed for folder.
Thomas blocked.
“Do not.”
Derek stepped back.
“This is marital finance.”
Catherine laughed.
“Then your marriage has an unusually sophisticated international treasury department.”
I pulled final page.
Harbor Nine Holdings.
International bank transfer request.
Derek’s face drained.
Brenda took one step away.
Then Catherine held out another sheet.
“Sweetheart.”
I took.
This one was new.
I scanned.
Loan application.
$300,000 line of credit.
Personal guarantor:
Olivia Bennett.
Attached income declaration claimed I earned $240,000 annually as hospitality consultant.
I worked at a library.
My signature.
False.
Then bank device log.
Application submitted from IP address associated with Sterling Crown Automotive’s executive office.
User device registered to Derek.
I looked up.
Derek lunged.
“Give me that.”
Thomas stepped between.
“No.”
Then Catherine said:
“The hotel charges were tacky.”
Her voice carried just enough.
“But they were not your biggest problem.”
She turned toward Brenda.
“Ms. Sloan, Wilmington Private Credit has already exercised its contractual right to request an independent review of Sterling Crown payments made to Briarline Consulting.”
Brenda went pale.
Derek whispered:
“You can’t.”
Catherine smiled.
“I already did.”
Then:
“And before you accuse me of destroying a business, perhaps ask why your company paid more than six hundred thousand dollars to a vendor legally registered to the wife of its own finance director.”
Brenda turned toward Derek.
“You told me Briarline was clean.”
The words left her before she could stop them.
I stared.
Catherine’s head turned toward Brenda’s voice.
“Interesting choice of adjective.”
Brenda froze.
Derek grabbed her elbow.
“Don’t say anything.”
Too late.
May you like
The gala had just become much bigger than an affair.
Continue to the next part: Brenda’s accidental admission reveals that Derek’s boss knew Briarline existed long before Olivia ever heard its name.
