Chapter 7 - The Scraps of an Empire
The ink on the temporary restraining orders was barely dry when the true financial fallout began to cascade across Portland’s commercial real estate market.
By Tuesday afternoon, the offices of Bellamy Construction & Development LLC—Simon’s pride and joy—were completely shuttered. Local news outlets had gotten hold of the corporate registry leaks that Maya had so meticulously compiled, revealing that Simon had not only been running a double life with Piper Lane, but had been systematically bleeding capital from joint marital accounts to fund commercial shell properties under Piper’s name.
Helena sat at her minimalist wooden desk at Lumen North Studio, her posture straight, reviewing the final structural integration notes for the Hawthorne House project. Her phone vibrated continuously against the smooth surface of the drafting table—blocked numbers, unknown landlines, and frantic text messages from Simon’s defense counsel attempting to negotiate an out-of-court asset freeze release.
She swiped the notifications away without opening a single one.
"Helena?"
She looked up. Marcus Vance, the senior partner, stood by her partition holding a steaming ceramic mug. His expression was a mix of professional caution and genuine sympathy.
"There's a courier downstairs," Marcus said quietly. "He dropped off an envelope addressed directly to you. From the Multnomah County Detention Center."
Helena didn't flinch. "Bring it over, please."
Marcus slid a thick, heavy manila envelope onto the edge of her desk. The return address was stamped in bold, institutional blue ink: Inmate Mail Processing – Simon D. Bellamy #849201.
She waited until Marcus had walked away before sliding her letter opener beneath the flap. Inside was a single piece of lined yellow legal paper, covered in Simon’s familiar, hurried architectural handwriting—the same neat scrawl that used to leave grocery lists and sweet morning notes on their refrigerator.
Helena,
I don't expect you to ever forgive me. I know what I threw away, and I know how unforgivable this looks. But please, for the six years we shared, read this out. My accounts are frozen. The company is in receivership. Piper’s family has threatened civil ruin, and my lawyers are telling me I’m facing serious time for the corporate overlapping. If you lift the emergency freeze on the primary commercial account, I can settle with the creditors, salvage some of the assets, and we can handle a quiet, private dissolution without destroying everything we built together.
Please, Hel. You always said we were a team. Don't let me drown.
— Simon
Helena stared at the last sentence. You always said we were a team.
May you like
A cold, humorless smile touched her lips. He still didn’t get it. He still thought manipulation was just another design tool, something he could draft and re-draft until it fit his narrative.
She folded the letter neatly, dropped it into her metal trash bin, and went back to adjusting the lighting angles for the Hawthorne grand foyer.
