When the awards began, the council chair praised Simon for redefining regional architecture. Simon stood up and walked to the stage looking like the man I had once intended to grow old with.
He thanked his team and his mother, and then he looked directly at me. “And to my wife, Diana,” he said warmly, “who has believed in me more than I deserved.”
The room laughed affectionately, and I smiled back at him with steady eyes. I knew he was right about one thing: I had certainly given him more than he deserved.
An usher whispered that my attorney was waiting for me in a private corridor. I rose from the table, telling a suspicious Beatrice that everything was perfectly fine.
Julian Moss handed me a leather envelope containing the updated legal documents. They detailed the trust, the ground leases, and the bridge grant that had funded Simon’s career.
“Do you still want the chair to give you the floor?” Julian asked. I told him yes because I was finished with delaying the truth.
I returned to the table where Simon was laughing with his colleagues. At 9:15, the council chair announced that a representative from the Sterling Foundation wanted to say a few words.