Chapter 7 - I REFUSED TO BECOME HIS ALIBII rejected the statement.

Derek called me six minutes after his lawyer received the answer.

I did not pick up.

He left a voicemail.

“You stupid waitress. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

That word again.

Waitress.

For years he used my work as proof I was beneath him.

Now I understood he had been trading on my family connection while mocking the life I actually built myself.

I saved the voicemail.

Rebecca contacted the lender directly through proper channels.

I gave a sworn statement.

I had never authorized Derek to represent himself as backed by Vincent Moretti.

I had never guaranteed Derek’s loan.

I had never agreed to use the Moretti name to obtain credit.

That did not automatically cancel Derek’s debt.

The lender had its own underwriting obligations.

But my statement removed one fiction.

The response was surprisingly calm.

Their lawyer said they had never relied on an actual Moretti guarantee.

Then what did they rely on?

Derek’s properties.

Personal guarantee.

Expected deal revenue.

And, apparently, the belief that his family connection reduced certain reputational risks.

Reputation.

Not legal collateral.

Derek had exaggerated the Moretti connection.

The lender had been willing to enjoy the implication without demanding actual support.

Adult institutions making convenient assumptions.

Familiar.

Then the lender tightened terms because Derek’s projects were deteriorating.

Derek blamed me.

Again.

That was when I made the irreversible decision.

I filed a formal identity-theft and fraud report concerning the documents used without my authorization.

Not because I knew exactly what crime had occurred.

I did not.

Because my identification had been placed in a loan application I never approved.

Authorities could determine what mattered.

Vincent offered his own investigators.

I said no.

His mouth tightened.

“Why?”

“Because I want evidence Derek can’t call yours.”

Vincent looked at me for several seconds.

Then nodded.

“Your mother would like that answer.”

“So do I.”

That was the first time I realized I could reject Vincent without losing his help.

May you like

My Sister Found Her 8-Week-Old Baby Crying in the Kitchen Sink—Then I Pi...

I Came Home to Find My Husband and His Mistress Humiliating Our 8-Year-O...

Our Own Children Bought Our Graves and Demanded We Sign Over the House W...

Derek never allowed that.

The contrast unsettled me.