Chapter 10 - BRI SINCLAIR CALLED ME YEARS LATER WITH NEWS ABOUT PRESTON, AND I REALIZED I NO LONGER NEEDED TO KNOW
Eight years after engagement party, Bri Sinclair called.
I almost did not recognize number.
She had moved to Seattle.
Worked in affordable-housing finance after several years rebuilding career.
I knew only because industry news.
No contact.
“Simone.”
“Bri.”
“I’m sorry to call.”
“What happened?”
“Preston was released last month.”
I already knew through victim notification.
“Okay.”
“He reached out to me.”
I felt almost nothing.
“What did he say?”
Then I stopped.
“Actually, no.”
Bri went silent.
“What?”
“I don’t need know.”
That surprised both.
“He contacted you. If you need help with boundary, speak counsel.”
“But I don’t need content.”
She exhaled.
“I think that’s why I called.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know whether he was trying to reach you through me.”
“Did he ask?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly?”
“You said don’t.”
“Right.”
I smiled.
“Then no.”
She laughed unexpectedly.
“Okay.”
We sat in odd silence.
Then Bri said:
“I’m married now.”
“Congratulations.”
“Two years.”
“Good.”
“No children.”
“Okay.”
“Dad retired.”
“Good.”
Then:
“I’ve thought about party a lot.”
I did not invite.
She continued anyway.
“I hated you that night.”
I raised eyebrow though phone.
“Why?”
“Because Preston wanted me to believe you were cold.”
“Controlling.”
“Always judging him.”
“I wanted story where affair made sense.”
“Yes.”
“I also knew part wasn’t true.”
“Which?”
“You were helping company.”
“He complained about you reviewing numbers, but he used your models constantly.”
I remembered.
Then Bri said:
“I was jealous of how much he relied on you.”
There.
Affair as competition.
“I thought if I became the woman beside him publicly, it meant I won.”
The image:
Emerald dress.
Her hand? At party she wasn't beside him? She was in room. Gerald said families. Preston kicked Simone. Maybe.
She continued:
“Then you took off ring and walked out.”
“I thought you were dramatic.”
“By next morning, I realized you were the only person who hadn’t been told transaction depended on you.”
I said nothing.
“I'm sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
“I know.”
“You don’t need keep.”
She exhaled.
“Therapist says same.”
We laughed lightly.
I did not become her friend.
But call ended peaceful.
Then Julian asked when I told:
“Do you wish heard what Preston said?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
And I was.
That felt enormous.
For years, information had saved me.
Documents.
Records.
Filings.
Messages.
Knowledge gave control when deception surrounded.
But there is point where more information stops being protection and becomes attachment.
I did not need Preston’s latest thoughts.
His life no longer data set I had to audit.
That year Grant & Palmer merged with national firm.
I had choice:
Become regional forensic chair.
More money.
More management.
Less cases.
I hesitated.
Julian said:
“What do you want?”
Not:
Take.
Not:
You should.
“What do you want?”
I realized:
I wanted smaller.
I had spent decade proving capability.
Now I wanted time.
I negotiated role leading complex investigations three days per week plus teaching.
People thought strange.
Partner track power backward.
Good.
I stepped down from management.
Started teaching graduate forensic-accounting seminar.
First day, a student asked:
“What is biggest red flag?”
I said:
“A story someone needs you not to verify.”
Then:
“And also believing you’re too smart to be deceived.”
Class quiet.
I told them:
“Expertise does not make you immune when deception enters through trust.”
Not my personal case details.
But truth.
The semester became favorite.
At home Julian cooked terribly.
I handled finances? Shared accountant. We alternated household admin. Once he forgot property-tax estimate payment.
I got annoyed.
Not scared.
Difference.
He apologized.
We paid penalty.
No hidden LLC.
May you like
No forged signature.
Ordinary mistakes are beautiful after fraud.
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