The note from Samuel Price was worse than Olivia had described.
Derek read it in Rebecca’s office the next morning.
Marjorie Hale reports Derek is emotionally unstable following Thomas’s death.
She states he has developed problematic alcohol use.
Possible gambling behavior.
Recommends continued temporary administration until he stabilizes.
Derek stared at the page.
“I was working sixty hours a week.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I know.”
“I barely drank.”
“I know.”
“I’ve never gambled.”
“I know.”
His hands shook.
Olivia sat across the table.
“She needed a reason to keep control.”
Derek laughed without humor.
“She invented a broken version of me.”
No one contradicted him.
A second Price note showed skepticism.
Samuel had asked for documentation.
Marjorie supplied none.
Yet estate matters were already complicated.
Thomas’s death.
Restitution dispute.
Trust registration.
Cedar Ridge pressure.
Samuel delayed formal transfer.
Then months became years.
Derek looked at Rebecca.
“Was that legal?”
“Some delays appear defensible. Later ones are more questionable.”
“Did Price fail me?”
Rebecca considered.
“In some ways, yes.”
The answer surprised him.
She continued.
“He appears to have believed he was preventing a larger family fight. He also documented concerns about Marjorie.”
“So he knew.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he call me?”
“Same pattern everyone keeps falling into.”
Derek looked toward Olivia.
“Protecting me.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Or avoiding conflict while calling it protection.”
Derek closed his eyes.
Thomas.
Martin.
Samuel.
Marjorie.
Even Olivia, for a time, had gathered evidence quietly because she believed direct confrontation would fail.
Everyone around him had decided what truth he could handle.
Some for good reasons.
Some selfish ones.
Some both.
And Derek himself had spent years choosing not to know whenever knowing threatened peace.
He stood.
“I want full control of the trust reviewed immediately.”
Rebecca nodded.
“That process is already underway.”
“And Ruth stays protected.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want Mom using the property for legal fees.”
“That depends on ownership rights and court orders, but we can seek restrictions.”
“Do it.”
Rebecca made a note.
Olivia watched him.
“What?”
“You sound different.”
“Angrier?”
“Clearer.”
Derek looked again at Price’s notes.
“I’m tired of being described by people who benefit from me not reading the paperwork.”
That afternoon, prosecutors interviewed Derek formally.
They asked about his drinking.
Gambling.
Financial history.
Employment.
Marjorie’s claims.
He answered everything.
Bank records supported him.
Employment records supported him.
No gambling evidence existed.
The invented instability became another documented piece of Marjorie’s effort to maintain control.
After the interview, Harris stopped him in the hallway.
“Your mother wants to amend her statement.”
Derek’s face tightened.
“What now?”
“She admits making false representations about your condition after Thomas died.”
Derek stared.
“Because evidence proved it?”
“That’s part of why people amend statements.”
Derek almost laughed.
“Does she want me there?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Harris nodded.
“I’ll tell her.”
Derek walked away.
Halfway down the hall, he stopped.
Then returned.
“Actually.”
Harris waited.
“I’ll see her one more time.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He went anyway.
Marjorie sat across the interview table.
This time Derek felt almost no urge to comfort her.
That frightened him at first.
Then he understood numbness could be temporary.
It did not mean he had become cruel.
Marjorie started speaking immediately.
“I lied to Samuel.”
“I know.”
“I said things about you that weren’t true.”
“I know.”
“You weren’t drinking.”
“I know.”
“You never gambled.”
“I know.”
“I said it because Samuel wanted to transfer control.”
“I know.”
Marjorie looked confused.
Derek leaned back.
“You keep confessing facts after someone else proves them.”
Her face collapsed.
“That’s fair.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Fair would’ve been telling me eight years ago.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I thought if I lost the trust, Kline would destroy me.”
“So you kept me out of it.”
“Yes.”
“You made Samuel think I couldn’t handle my own life.”
“Yes.”
“You used Dad’s death to make the lie believable.”
Marjorie covered her face.
“Yes.”
Derek watched her.
For the first time, he saw how remorse and self-pity could exist together.
He needed to distinguish them.
“When did you plan to give me control?”
Marjorie lowered her hands.
“When Kline was gone.”
“That could’ve been never.”
“I know.”
“When the debt was paid?”
“Yes.”
“That could’ve been never too.”
“Yes.”
“So really, you didn’t have a plan.”
“No.”
Derek nodded.
“I need you to hear something.”
Marjorie looked frightened.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not cutting you off because Olivia told me to.”
“I know.”
“I’m not doing it because Dad told me to.”
Marjorie’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“I’m doing it because I need to.”
She began crying.
Derek continued.
“I don’t know what relationship we’ll have later.”
“Derek.”
“No.”
He raised one hand.
“Please listen.”
She stopped.
“I’m not taking your calls unless they come through your attorney or concern something specific I actually need to know.”
Marjorie’s mouth trembled.
“I’m not managing your bills.”
She nodded weakly.
“I’m not arranging your defense.”
Another nod.
“I’m not explaining you to relatives.”
Tears ran freely now.
“I’m not asking Olivia to forgive you.”
Marjorie looked down.
“And I’m not using your fear as a reason to abandon my boundaries.”
Silence.
Marjorie whispered, “How long?”
Derek felt the old reflex.
Give a timeline.
Ease her panic.
Promise reunion.
He did not.
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t just leave me.”
“I can leave this room.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
Her voice became desperate.
“I’m your mother.”
Derek closed his eyes.
There it was.
The sentence that had governed his entire life.
He opened them.
“Yes.”
Marjorie waited.
Derek said, “And that doesn’t mean you get unlimited access to me.”
She stared.
The words seemed almost incomprehensible to her.
Derek stood.
Marjorie began sobbing.
He felt pain.
Guilt.
Sadness.
But he did not sit back down.
At the door, she called his name.
He stopped.
“Do you still love me?”
Derek looked back.
“Yes.”
Marjorie cried harder.
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because I finally understand those are two different questions.”
He walked out.
Olivia was not waiting this time.
Derek was glad.
He needed the choice to belong entirely to him.
Outside, he sat in his truck.
His phone remained silent.
For once, nobody needed him urgently.
No crisis.
No demand.
No family emergency requiring immediate surrender.
The emptiness felt unfamiliar.
Then peaceful.
That evening, Olivia came to the apartment they had once shared.
Derek had changed the locks.
Marjorie’s key no longer worked.
Neither did the lost spare.
He had installed a new security system and given Olivia temporary access because several of her remaining belongings were still there.
She entered carrying two boxes.
Derek stood near the kitchen.
The apartment still looked bare.
“You can take anything that’s yours.”
“I know.”
“I made a list of things I wasn’t sure about.”
“That’s fine.”
He handed her a sheet.
No sentimental argument.
No attempt to turn shared objects into reasons for conversation.
Olivia read it.
“You put the coffee machine under mine.”
“You bought it.”
“We bought it.”
“You researched it for three weeks. Morally, it’s yours.”
She laughed.
Derek smiled.
They packed quietly.
At one point, Olivia found their wedding album in a cabinet.
Both stopped.
She held it.
Derek did not speak.
Olivia sat on the floor.
Turned one page.
Then another.
Photographs of people who had not yet understood the structure around them.
Derek sat several feet away.
“We looked happy.”
“We were.”
“That feels strange.”
“Why?”
“Because now I keep wondering whether it was real.”
Olivia closed the album.
“It was.”
He looked at her.
“Even with everything?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
She considered.
“Real things can still become unhealthy.”
Derek nodded.
He looked toward the empty wall where their photographs once hung.
“I talked to Mom today.”
Olivia waited.
“I told her no direct calls.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I abandoned someone.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
He said it carefully.
“I set a boundary.”
Olivia smiled faintly.
“You sound like a therapist brochure.”
“I paid enough. I’m stealing phrases.”
She laughed again.
Then silence.
Derek looked at the divorce papers on the counter.
Olivia followed his gaze.
“I still haven’t filed.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going to ask why?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because whatever your reason is, it belongs to you until you want to tell me.”
Olivia stared at him.
“That’s annoyingly healthy.”
“I hate it.”
She smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“I haven’t filed because I wanted to know whether the person I married was still there.”
Derek’s throat tightened.
“And?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
“I also don’t know if that person is enough.”
Derek looked down.
“Also fair.”
Olivia placed the wedding album beside her box.
“I need you to understand something.”
“I’m listening.”
“If we ever try again, this can’t become a story where your mother was the villain and we were just collateral.”
Derek nodded immediately.
“I know.”
“No. Really hear me.”
He looked at her.
“I made mistakes too. I stayed quiet too long. I started investigating instead of leaving sooner. I stopped telling you things because I expected you to fail me.”
Derek opened his mouth.
Olivia raised a hand.
“I’m not blaming myself for what your mother did.”
“I know.”
“But if we rebuild anything, I don’t want us pretending only one family dynamic mattered.”
Derek absorbed that.
“My conflict avoidance.”
“Yes.”
“Your withdrawal.”
“Yes.”
“My loyalty tests.”
“Yes.”
“Your secret evidence folder.”
Olivia winced.
“Yes.”
“That one was justified.”
“Maybe. Still not a healthy marriage.”
Derek nodded.
The distinction felt mature in a way neither found comforting.
He asked, “Would you consider couples therapy someday?”
Olivia looked at him.
“Someday.”
Hope moved through him.
He did not reach for it.
“Okay.”
She noticed.
“You’re getting very good at saying that.”
“I’m in intensive training.”
Olivia looked down at the album.
“I’m not moving back.”
“I know.”
“I’m not stopping the separation.”
“I know.”
“But I’m willing to keep talking.”
Derek’s chest tightened.
“Okay.”
This time she smiled.
They finished packing.
Before Olivia left, she stood at the door.
Derek remained in the kitchen.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
She hesitated.
Then:
“Derek.”
“Yeah?”
“Your father would probably be proud of you.”
His face changed.
Olivia immediately shook her head.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t tell you what a dead man would think.”
Derek smiled faintly.
“Probably not.”
She reached for the door.
“But Martin might approve of the highlighter system.”
Olivia laughed.
“Absolutely.”
Then she left.
Derek locked the door behind her.
Not against her.
Against the old idea that love required leaving every door open.
Click here to continue reading: PART 21: Derek and Olivia Entered Couples Therapy Separately Committed to Honesty, Only to Discover the Hardest Truth Was Not About Marjorie
My Mother Called From a Grocery Store Furious About a Declined Card That Never Belonged to Her
Part 20 of 35
