Chapter 5 - Clearing the Foundation
Over the next three months, Derek systematically dismantled the life he had built during those blind, grief-stricken years.
He resigned from his position as managing partner at his real estate development firm, transferring his operational shares to his junior partners and transitioning into an independent consulting role that allowed him to work entirely from his home office.
The forty-million-dollar Atlanta deal went to another firm. Derek didn't care. The money meant nothing compared to the quiet mornings he spent sitting on the front porch with Maisie, watching her color in her sketchbooks while her appetite slowly returned.
He hired a specialized child psychologist who visited twice a week, helping Maisie process the trauma of Claire's cruelty. Slowly, day by day, the color returned to her cheeks. Her laugh—once a rare, fragile sound—returned to the hallways of the white house, filling the quiet rooms with music.
On a warm afternoon in late October, Derek stood in the kitchen with his attorney, Arthur Vance.
"Claire’s legal team tried to float a plea bargain this morning," Arthur said, laying a legal document on the island where the green glass had once stood. "They offered six years in exchange for a guilty plea on reduced charges."
Derek didn't even look at the paper. "No."
"Derek," Arthur cautioned gently, "a trial will force you and Maisie to testify."
"I will testify for ten days straight if I have to," Derek said, his voice firm and unyielding. "She will serve the maximum sentence allowed under Georgia law for felony child cruelty. Seventeen years. Not a day less."
Arthur looked at Derek, seeing a man who was no longer distracted by spreadsheets, corporate power, or false comfort. He saw a father who had been forged in the fire of his own mistakes and emerged unbreakable.
"Consider it done," Arthur said, taking the document back and zipping his briefcase shut. "She won't see the outside of a cell for a long time."
After Arthur left, Derek walked out into the backyard.
The autumn air in Savannah was crisp and sweet, scented with pine and the salty breeze from the nearby salt marshes.
In the center of the lawn stood a brand-new wooden playset—a massive swing set with a slide, a climbing wall, and a small elevated playhouse that Derek had built with his own hands over two weekends.
Maisie was on the swing, her small legs pumping furiously back and forth, her bright yellow dress billowing around her like a sunflower in the wind.
"Daddy, look!" she shouted, her voice ringing out high and clear across the grass. "Look how high I can go!"
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Derek walked over, standing near the wooden frame, his hands ready to catch her if she slipped.
"I see you, baby!" Derek laughed, stepping forward as she swung backward, giving her a gentle, steady push on her back. "Higher!"
