Chapter 22 - Derek’s Ordinary Death
Derek died at seventy-two.
Seven years after our meeting.
Heart attack.
No suspicious circumstances.
No prison consequence.
No revenge.
I learned through a short email from his estate attorney because my old divorce decree contained a property-release reference they wanted confirmation? That's unnecessary. Better Lena saw obituary. But local. Let's say victim-services no longer. A mutual acquaintance told.
I looked up obituary.
It said:
Property manager.
Business owner.
Son of Patricia and William.
Volunteer with reentry employment program in later years.
No spouse/children maybe.
That detail made me unexpectedly sad.
Not because I wanted family with him.
Because I once imagined.
Then his estate.
No reason for me to know, but his attorney sent a sealed personal letter left “only if Claire Bennett consents.” The executor contacted.
I said no at first.
Then yes? We already had final meeting. No need another confession. Better I decline.
“Please destroy.”
They did per instruction.
I did not need posthumous voice.
That was boundary.
Then I wondered if that was cruel.
Michael:
“No.”
Then:
“You already gave him final conversation.”
Yes.
Derek’s convictions remained.
No exoneration.
Restitution paid.
Supervision done.
No unresolved debts linked to me.
His estate had no claim on Crestline or me.
Clean.
Then I thought about wedding line:
“You’re my wife now.”
He had believed title changed my rights.
In the end, marriage lasted less than year legally, eleven hours functionally.
But story lasted decades because trauma time is strange.
Derek eventually became a man who could hear no.
Too late for us.
Maybe not too late for his later life.
That was enough.
Then I visited no grave.
No need.
I forgave.
Did not memorialize.
One night I dreamed ballroom.
This time, cake stayed upright.
Derek walked past me without touching.
I woke.
May you like
No panic.
Maybe brain finally updated.
