Chapter 5 - Delusions of Grandeur
For the first twenty-four hours after Audrey’s departure, Derek Halston felt an unfamiliar, intoxicating sensation: relief.
By eight o’clock that evening, the tension that had gripped Riverwood Lane had completely dissolved into an atmosphere of premature celebration.
Evelyn Halston sat in the grand drawing room, sipping a dry martini, while Chloe Montgomery—having quickly recovered from her initial shock—lounged on the velvet settee in an emerald silk robe that Derek had purchased for Audrey the previous Christmas.
"I told you she wouldn't fight," Evelyn remarked, inspecting her manicure in the amber glow of the fireplace. "Audrey has always been timid. Her family may have had money once, but she has no spine. She’ll hide in some cheap hotel for a few days, realize she can't manage a newborn without Derek’s income, and come back ready to accept whatever terms we dictate."
Derek stood by the mahogany bar, pouring himself a generous measure of twenty-year-old scotch. He was smiling, his chest puffed out with restored arrogance.
"She thought she could threaten me," Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Telling me I wouldn't be sleeping here tomorrow. Can you believe the nerve? As if she could kick me out of my own home."
Chloe purred from the settee, tilting her head back to look at him with adoring, wide eyes. "It really is the most magnificent house in Richmond, Derek. You worked so hard to build all of this. It’s terrible how little she appreciated your success."
Derek walked over and stroked Chloe’s cheek, feeling like an absolute conqueror. "Well, that’s going to change now, sweetheart. Once we finalize the separation, I’ll have the master suite completely redecorated. None of Audrey’s boring, antique nonsense. Modern art. Custom Italian leather. We’ll host the firm’s annual gala right here on the back lawn."
"And the baby?" Chloe asked carefully, tracing a finger along the collar of his shirt. "What about custody?"
"Audrey can keep her," Evelyn dismissed with a wave of her diamond-encrusted hand. "A screaming infant would only ruin the ambiance of this home. Derek will pay a modest child support stipend—the bare minimum required by Virginia statutory guidelines—and Audrey can raise the child in a modest townhouse in the suburbs. It keeps our hands clean and our reputation intact."
Derek took a long sip of his drink, letting the burn of the alcohol warm his throat. He felt untouchable.
For the past five years, Derek had presented himself to Richmond society as a self-made titan. He was the managing director of Halston Capital, a boutique private equity firm that handled "exclusive family wealth."
He drove a hundred-and-forty-thousand-dollar Porsche. He belonged to the Commonwealth Club. He wore bespoke English suits.
He had conveniently forgotten that Halston Capital’s primary source of liquidity was a twenty-million-dollar investment portfolio managed exclusively by the Vance Heritage Trust.
He had forgotten that his firm’s prestigious office suite in downtown Richmond was leased through Vance Commercial Properties for the nominal fee of one dollar per year.
And, most crucially, Derek had spent so many years signing guest registers and writing checks from the joint household management account that he had completely erased the memory of a rainy Tuesday morning six years ago—the morning before their wedding—when he had sat in a nondescript office in Charlottesville and signed a six-hundred-page prenuptial agreement prepared by Arthur Pendelton.
"To the new chapter," Derek said, raising his glass toward his mother and his mistress.
"To the new chapter," Chloe echoed, clinking her glass against his with a bright, crystalline chime.
The next morning, Derek woke at eleven.
The sun was shining brightly across the James River, turning the manicured lawn of the estate into a sea of emerald green. He had breakfast served on the terrace by the housekeeper—who looked pale, nervous, and refused to look Derek in the eye as she poured his coffee.
"Take the day off, Maria," Derek told her generously, waving a hand. "Chloe and I are going into the city for lunch. We won't need dinner prepared until eight."
"Yes, Mr. Halston," the housekeeper whispered, setting down the silver pot and retreating inside almost at a run.
At one o’clock, Derek and Chloe left the house in his convertible Porsche.
They spent two glorious hours dining on oysters and champagne at an upscale bistro in Carytown. Derek was in high spirits, dropping his black credit card onto the bill with the casual indifference of a billionaire. He stopped at a high-end boutique and bought Chloe an eight-thousand-dollar diamond tennis bracelet, basking in the shop assistants' obsequious flattery.
"You spoil me, Derek," Chloe whispered in the car on the way back, holding her wrist up to catch the afternoon sunlight.
"You deserve it, darling," Derek replied, resting his hand on her bare knee as he steered the sports car down the winding, tree-lined curves of Riverwood Lane. "When you're with a man who controls his own destiny, you never have to settle for second best."
They turned the final bend leading to the grand entrance of 14 Riverwood Lane.
Derek took his foot off the accelerator.
"What on earth...?" he muttered.
The massive, twelve-foot wrought-iron security gates—which were typically kept open during the day—were shut tight.
Parked across the driveway, blocking all access from the private road, were two gleaming black Cadillac Escalades.
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And standing directly in front of the locked iron gates was an elderly man in a charcoal three-piece suit, leaning heavily on a silver-topped walking cane, flanked by two armed private security guards in dark tactical uniforms.
***
