Chapter 4 - The Night of Revelations
The Grand Ballroom of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel was a sea of crystal chandeliers, black-tie tuxedos, and silk gowns. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and political influence.
I stood near the entrance, dressed in a stunning, backless emerald-green silk gown. I had never looked more beautiful, or more lethal.
Beside me, Derek was sweating through his bespoke tuxedo. His phone was vibrating in his pocket every two minutes—undoubtedly Valerie, who was currently sitting in a half-packed Bellevue apartment, panicking about the eviction.
"You look tense, babe," I said, gently adjusting his bow tie.
"Just... big night," he muttered, his eyes darting to the entrance.
A moment later, Valerie walked in. She was wearing a dramatic red gown, but her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot beneath her heavy makeup. She looked like a woman on the edge of a cliff. When she saw us, she hurried over, her voice trembling.
"Derek... Claire... we need to talk. Right now."
"Not now, Valerie," Derek whispered fiercely, looking around at his colleagues. "We are in public. Act normal."
"I can't act normal!" Valerie hissed. "My things are in boxes! The locks are being changed tomorrow!"
"Everything is going to be fine," I said, stepping between them with a warm, reassuring smile. "Let’s just enjoy the evening. Look, they're calling everyone to the main dining room. The partnership announcements are about to start."
I ushered them toward the front VIP table, right in front of the massive projection screen. Mr. Sterling, the managing partner, stood at the podium, his voice echoing through the grand hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Sterling announced. "Tonight, we celebrate the growth of our firm. And specifically, we welcome a man who has shown incredible dedication, a man who represents the very best of our values. Please welcome our newest senior partner, Derek Morales."
The room erupted into applause. Derek stood up, his chest swelling with pride, his temporary panic forgotten in the warmth of the spotlight. He adjusted his jacket and walked toward the stage.
Valerie clapped furiously, tears of triumph in her eyes.
"But before Derek speaks," Mr. Sterling continued, smiling down at me. "His lovely wife, Claire, has prepared a special presentation to honor his journey to this podium. Claire, the floor is yours."
The lights in the ballroom dimmed.
I stood up, walked to the side of the stage, and nodded to the technician.
The massive screen behind the podium flickered to life.
But instead of a tribute video of Derek’s career, the screen displayed a massive, high-definition PDF document.
It was the $1.2 million commercial loan application.
The signature line was zoomed in, showing my forged signature side-by-side with a certified handwriting analyst's report labeling it a fraud.
The crowd began to whisper, the murmurs rising like a tide of dry leaves.
"What is this?" Mr. Sterling muttered, his smile freezing.
Before Derek could speak, the screen changed.
A voice recording began to blast through the ballroom’s state-of-the-art sound system.
“Claire doesn’t suspect a thing... Poor thing still thinks I’m buried at the firm. As long as she keeps paying the credit cards and the Bellevue apartment, it’s better if she stays clueless.”
The ballroom went dead silent.
The audio continued, playing the recording from the pantry.
“My son will carry my last name. And Claire will accept it. She always accepts everything... Once Derek gets his promotion and divorces her, we’ll finally be a real family...”
Then, the final slide appeared.
It was a certified DNA paternity report for baby Liam Morales, with Derek listed as the father with 99.9% probability, sitting alongside a photo of Derek and Valerie kissing in the pantry of my house.
Valerie let out a sharp, horrified scream, covering her face as every eye in the ballroom turned to her.
Derek stood on the stage, frozen, his face completely bloodless. The spotlight seemed to pin him to the floor like a specimen under a microscope.
I stepped up to the second microphone on the side of the stage, my voice echoing clearly through the silent hall.
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"I’d like to congratulate my husband on his new family," I said smoothly, looking directly into his terrified eyes. "And to his new senior partners: I’m sure you’ll find his forensic financial skills highly... educational. Goodnight."
As I stepped down from the stage, two plainclothes detectives from the Seattle Police Department, whom Lauren had prepped with the forgery evidence, walked into the ballroom, heading straight for the stage.
