He introduced his new wife in front of everyone and had no idea the woman he called his ex was about to inherit a billion-dollar empire

Six months later, the Federal Courthouse in Lower Manhattan was surrounded by television news trucks and dozens of journalists.

The "Bigamy and Billion-Dollar Fraud" trial of Derek Patterson had become a national media obsession. Headlines across the country ran stories featuring photos of Simone in her elegant white suits stepping into courtroom doors, contrasted with pictures of Derek in his orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.

Inside Courtroom 402, the atmosphere was suffocatingly quiet.

Simone sat in the front row of the gallery, flanked by Julian Thorne and her personal legal team. She wore a simple navy dress, her expression calm, measured, and unreadable.

Across the room at the defense table, Derek sat beside his court-appointed public defender. He had lost thirty pounds in federal custody. His hair was shaved short, his shoulders slumped, his eyes sunken into dark sockets.

On the witness stand, Aunt Patricia was finishing her testimony.

"And what did Mr. Patterson say when his family confronted him at the restaurant?" the federal prosecutor asked.

"He said Simone was crazy," Patricia testified, her voice crisp and clear for the court record. "He told us she was an ex-wife who wouldn't leave him alone. He tried to have security throw her out into the street."

"And did you believe him at the time, Mrs. Patterson?"

"For three minutes, I did," Patricia said, turning her head to glare at Derek. "Because I couldn't imagine a nephew of mine being capable of such utter, disgusting cruelty."

"Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. No further questions."

The prosecutor stepped back to the counsel table. "The government rests its case, Your Honor."

The judge, a formidable woman in her sixties named Judge Evelyn Mercer, looked down at Derek’s defense attorney. "Does the defense wish to call any witnesses?"

The public defender stood up slowly, looking exhausted. "No, Your Honor. The defense rests."

"Very well," Judge Mercer said, turning her gaze toward Derek. "Mr. Patterson, before I pronounce sentence, you have the right to address this court."

Derek stood up, his leg irons clanking loudly against the hardwood floor. He looked across the room at Simone.

"Simone..." he rasped, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I was blind. I was greedy. I lost sight of what mattered... I know I hurt you, but please... tell them to give me a second chance."

Simone didn't flinch. She met his gaze directly, her blue eyes as cool and reflective as frozen water. She didn't speak. She didn't nod. She simply watched him, offering neither forgiveness nor hatred.

Judge Mercer adjusted her glasses and read from her notes.

"Derek Patterson," Judge Mercer said, her voice echoing off the high plaster ceilings. "In my twenty-four years on the federal bench, I have rarely seen a case involving such calculated, cold-hearted deceit. You did not merely commit financial fraud; you attempted to systematically annihilate the identity and dignity of a woman who supported you for six years."

The judge slammed her gavel down with a sharp, thunderous crack.

"On Counts One through Eleven, I sentence you to fourteen years in federal custody without the possibility of parole. You are ordered to pay restitution in the amount of four point two million dollars to the estate of Arthur Vance."

Derek’s knees buckled. The two marshals caught him under the arms before he could hit the floor, dragging him toward the side door leading to the holding cells.