She dove in, grateful for the distraction. Thomas called a week later. Brandon was definitely still seeing the woman, Candace. They met after work three times.
Thomas had photos. Candace was married too. Husband named Derek Pollson. No kids.
Simone asked Thomas to find out more about Derek. She sent Derek an email. Subject: Information about your wife. She explained everything, attached three photos.
Within hours he replied: “Can we meet? ”
They met at Collins Coffee at eight the next morning. Derek was tall, thin, with dark hair and tired eyes. He opened the folder she gave him and flipped through the photos.
His hands shook. “I loved her,” he said quietly. “I still love her. ”
Simone told him about her plan to file a workplace complaint with Colton Industries.
Two employees having an affair, both married, neither disclosed it—that violated company policy. If they both filed, it carried more weight. Derek agreed. Mediation came two weeks later.
Simone sat across from Brandon in his wrinkled suit. Patricia laid out the evidence: the bank records, the photos. Richard Moss, Brandon’s attorney, tried to negotiate. Simone watched Brandon squirm.
He agreed to equal division of assets, pay back the eleven thousand over two years, the house appraised and bought out, all legal fees paid. After mediation, Brandon approached her. “I know you hate me. But I need you to know I’m sorry.
”
“You made choices. Now you’re facing consequences. ”
“Can’t we try? Counseling?
”
“We’re done. In six weeks it’ll be legally over. Move on, Brandon. I already have.
”
That night, she emailed Gloria Hendris at Colton Industries. She attached everything: photos, bank records, Thomas’s report, a timeline. Derek sent his own complaint simultaneously. Gloria called the next morning.
“I’m opening a formal investigation as of today. Both employees will be interviewed. ”
Two days later, Thomas reported Brandon and Candace had been placed on different floors. A week after that, Gloria called again.
“Both employees have been terminated for policy violations and fraudulent expense reporting. ”
Simone sat down. Terminated. Brandon showed up at her office two days after he lost his job.
“You got me fired. ”
“You got yourself fired. I just reported what you did. ”
“I can’t find another job.
I can’t pay you back the eleven thousand. ”
“Then you’ll have to figure something out. You made choices. These are the consequences.
”
She walked back inside without looking back. Meanwhile, Mr. Morrison called her into his office. A firm in Portland wanted a senior architect to lead a major downtown development.
Bigger budget, more creative freedom. Salary substantial. They’d want someone to start in three months. Simone interviewed.
She got the offer. One hundred twenty thousand, full benefits, relocation package. The divorce was finalized on a Thursday. Simone signed the papers and walked out of the courthouse twenty minutes later, legally single.
“How do you feel? ” Patricia asked. “Free. ”
She spent two weeks packing.
Her friends threw a going-away party. On her last night, they drank champagne in Relle’s living room. “To your freedom,” Relle toasted. “To new beginnings.
”
Simone drove to Portland. She found an apartment, started the job, threw herself into the project. The designs were ambitious—a mixed-use development with residential towers and public spaces. Her colleagues respected her.
A project manager named Malcolm—older, with gray hair and kind eyes—became a steady presence. He asked her out. She hesitated, then agreed to dinner. It was easy, comfortable.
He took things slow, never pushed. Back home, Brandon filed for bankruptcy. The eleven thousand was gone. Simone didn’t care anymore.
Derek got engaged to a woman he met at his gym. He sent Simone a photo. “Thanks for helping me get here. ”
Malcolm’s daughter Emma cornered her in the kitchen.
“Do you love my dad? ”
“I’m getting there. ”
Eighteen months after the divorce, Simone got an email from Brandon. Subject: I’m sorry.
He said he’d been in therapy, that he understood what he’d destroyed, that he wasn’t asking for forgiveness. Simone read it three times. Then she closed her laptop. She didn’t respond.
Two years after the divorce, the Portland project was completed. The grand opening drew hundreds of people. Simone stood at the ribbon cutting, scissors in hand, Malcolm beside her, Jerome and Relle in the crowd. She cut the ribbon.
Everyone cheered. Later, Malcolm found her on the balcony overlooking the plaza. “How are you feeling? ”
“Proud.
Really proud. ”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Maybe marriage isn’t the point. Maybe the point is just choosing each other every day.
I’m okay with us, however that looks. ”
Simone turned to face him. “You’re a good man, Malcolm. ”
“I’m a man who loves you.
That’s all. ”
“I love you, too. ”
They kissed as the sun set over Portland, over the buildings Simone had designed, over the life she’d built from the ashes of her marriage. Brandon was somewhere in Texas.
Candace in North Carolina. Derek was married and happy. And Simone was here, in love, in her career, in her life. The best revenge wasn’t seeing Brandon suffer.
It was living so well that he became irrelevant. And that’s exactly what she’d done.