Chapter 3 - WHAT DEREK DID AT PETERSON TECH
Peterson Tech fired Derek nine days later.
Not because of me.
Not because of the barbecue.
Because five people told the same story.
Julian Mercer had requested one mental-health day after his mother was hospitalized and his workload doubled.
Derek denied it.
In front of the department.
Then mocked him for asking.
Witnesses reported Derek saying:
“You’re twenty-three and already need a mental-health day? God help you when something real happens.”
Julian tried to explain.
Derek kept going.
“You want to be taken seriously in sales? Stop acting fragile.”
Then he assigned Julian a presentation with less than two hours’ notice.
When Julian stumbled, Derek interrupted repeatedly.
Apparently he ended with:
“Maybe this career isn’t built for everyone.”
Julian resigned the next morning.
But that was not all.
Once HR started asking questions, other employees spoke.
Derek had mocked a father for taking parental leave.
Called another employee “soft” for asking to leave early for therapy.
Publicly ridiculed a woman who cried after receiving news about a family death.
Not illegal in every instance.
Still toxic.
Then investigators found Slack messages.
Derek had written:
People are too sensitive now.
And:
You embarrass weakness out of someone or they never improve.
I read neither message through work.
Naomi told me only after the investigation ended because Derek had accused me publicly of influencing the result.
The company needed a record showing I had been fully excluded.
Termination for repeated violations of conduct policy and retaliation concerns.
Derek called me the same evening.
This time I answered.
“Happy?”
His voice was shaking.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Derek.”
“You got what you wanted.”
“I had nothing to do with your investigation.”
“They know you’re my brother.”
“You told them.”
“Because I knew what you’d do.”
“What did I do?”
“You let them fire me.”
I laughed once.
“I don’t employ you.”
“You have influence.”
“Not enough to erase witness statements.”
Silence.
“You think you’re better than me.”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
He sounded almost desperate now.
“You always have.”
I closed my eyes.
This was older than Peterson.
Older than Lucas.
Two boys under Frank’s roof.
Derek learning toughness by becoming the one who never got mocked.
Me learning survival by staying out of his way.
“Derek.”
“What?”
“You burned a six-year-old’s toys.”
“They were stuffed animals.”
“You humiliated a twenty-three-year-old until he quit.”
“He was weak.”
There.
No regret.
Not yet.
“He lost his mother last year,” I said.
Derek went silent.
“What?”
I had heard through Naomi only after everything closed.
Julian’s mother had not been hospitalized.
She had been dying.
The mental-health day request came after doctors told him treatment had failed.
Julian resigned two days before she died.
Derek said nothing.
I continued:
“You didn’t know because you never asked.”
Silence.
“You decided needing one day meant he was weak.”
Still nothing.
“Same thing you did with Lucas.”
“Don’t compare—”
“I’m not comparing them.”
My voice stayed calm.
“I’m telling you the pattern.”
Derek’s breathing grew louder.
Then:
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
I looked toward Lucas’s room.
“I’m terrified by how normal cruelty feels to you.”
He hung up.
That night, my mother called.
“Derek says he may lose the house.”
“He may.”
“Melissa took the kids to her sister’s.”
“I heard.”
“Can you talk to him?”
“No.”
“Virgil.”
“No.”
She began crying.
“He’s your brother.”
“Yes.”
“And Lucas is my son.”
Silence.
“For once, Mom, stop asking the person who was hurt to repair the person who caused it.”
She cried harder.
I felt terrible.
And still said nothing else.
Love does not require rescuing someone from the natural consequences of refusing to change.
May you like
I was finally learning that too.
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