Chapter 17 - The Deposition
Two weeks passed in the penthouse,
fourteen days of luxurious,
uninterrupted peace,
healing,
and meticulous,
ruthless preparation.
Clara’s diligent care,
combined with the world-class burn specialists Marcus had hired,
accelerated my physical recovery far beyond the hospital's initial,
pessimistic estimates.
The fiery red blisters on my back slowly turned into smooth,
pink scars,
badges of survival that I traced gently in the mirror every morning,
reminding myself of the hell I had conquered.
Today was the day of the first major legal confrontation,
the civil deposition regarding the freezing of the assets and the initiation of the divorce proceedings.
Because of the criminal protective order,
I did not have to sit in the same room as the monsters who had tortured me,
a small mercy that allowed me to maintain my absolute,
unshakable composure.
Marcus set up a secure,
encrypted video link in the penthouse dining room,
connecting us directly to the sterile,
fluorescent-lit conference room at the county jail.
I wore a tailored,
crimson blazer that commanded attention,
my hair styled in sleek,
perfect waves,
my makeup applied flawlessly to highlight my sharp,
determined features.
I wanted Daniel to see exactly what he had lost,
I wanted him to look at the screen and realize that the broken,
trembling bird he had caged was actually a dragon,
and she was finally breathing fire.
The video feed flickered to life,
and my breath caught in my throat for a fraction of a second as the image of my husband appeared on the monitor.
Daniel looked completely,
utterly destroyed,
a hollow,
shattered shell of the arrogant,
charming man who had manipulated my entire existence.
He wore an oversized,
faded orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his shrinking frame,
his pristine,
perfect hair greasy and unkempt,
his face covered in a patchy,
pathetic stubble.
Dark,
bruised bags hung heavily under his bloodshot eyes,
the stress,
the fear,
and the reality of his impending doom clearly eating him alive from the inside out.
His high-priced defense attorney,
a slick,
weasel-faced man named Vance,
sat beside him,
looking incredibly uncomfortable,
shuffling a stack of hopeless,
useless documents.
Vivian was brought into the room next,
flanked by two burly correctional officers,
her appearance even more shocking,
even more degraded than her son's.
The elegant,
cruel socialite was gone,
replaced by a haggard,
wild-eyed woman with graying,
matted roots,
her skin pale and deeply wrinkled without her expensive,
daily spa treatments.
When Daniel looked up and saw me on the screen,
looking radiant,
powerful,
and completely untouchable,
a physical flinch shuddered through his entire body,
a beautiful,
visible manifestation of his absolute defeat.
"Let the record show that this deposition is being recorded,"
Marcus began,
his voice booming through the speakers,
sharp,
authoritative,
and terrifyingly calm.
"We are here to discuss the financial restitution,
the divorce settlement,
and the immediate release of all stolen funds back to my client,
Elena Sterling."
Vance cleared his throat,
trying to inject some level of confidence into his wavering,
pathetic voice,
attempting to salvage the unsalvageable.
"My client denies the allegations of financial abuse, Mr. Hale,"
Vance stated,
reading from a prepared,
ridiculous script.
"The funds were moved for joint investment purposes,
a common practice in high-net-worth marriages,
and we request the injunction be lifted so my client can pay his mounting legal fees."
Marcus laughed,
a cold,
humorless sound that echoed in the jail's conference room,
making Daniel shrink even further into his cheap plastic chair.
"Your client does not have mounting legal fees, Vance,"
Marcus countered,
leaning closer to the camera,
his eyes locking onto Daniel with the intensity of a sniper.
"Your client is entirely bankrupt,
because the federal authorities seized all of his offshore accounts at four o'clock this morning,
following the discovery of his massive,
multi-million dollar embezzlement scheme at Harrison and Associates."
Daniel’s head snapped up,
his jaw dropping,
the last,
desperate sliver of hope completely draining from his terrified,
bloodshot eyes.
"You're lying,"
Daniel gasped,
his voice cracking,
sounding like a panicked,
cornered child rather than a powerful executive.
"Mr. Harrison would never authorize a federal audit,
he loved me,
he treated me like a son!"
"Mr. Harrison was the one who handed the files to the FBI, Daniel,"
I spoke up,
my voice smooth,
steady,
and laced with pure,
unadulterated poison.
"After he witnessed you assault me in his presence,
after he saw the monster you truly are,
he started digging into your perfect,
pristine accounts."
Vivian turned on her son instantly,
the survival instinct overriding her twisted,
toxic maternal loyalty in a matter of seconds.
"You stole from your firm?"
Vivian shrieked,
her voice shrill and echoing loudly in the small,
claustrophobic room.
"You idiot,
you absolute,
incompetent fool!
You put the stolen money in accounts under my name?
You are going to drag me down with you into federal prison!"
"Shut up, mother!"
Daniel roared,
losing his temper completely,
slamming his handcuffed fists onto the metal table,
the loud bang making Vance jump in his seat.
"You ruined everything!
If you hadn't poured that oil on her,
she would still be under my control,
and none of this would be happening!"
"I did it to discipline your worthless wife!"
Vivian screamed back,
spitting across the table,
the two monsters finally turning their vicious,
hateful fangs on each other.
"You were too weak to keep her in line,
and now I am rotting in a cage because of your pathetic,
spineless failures!"
Marcus reached forward,
pressing a button on the keyboard,
muting the audio feed from their end,
plunging the room into peaceful,
beautiful silence as we watched them continue to scream at each other on the screen.
"Well,"
Marcus said casually,
leaning back in his plush leather chair,
smiling broadly at the chaotic,
imploding disaster unfolding on the monitor.
"I think this deposition was highly productive,
don't you agree, Elena?"
"Extremely,"
I smiled back,
taking a slow,
May you like
satisfying sip of my sparkling water,
watching the empire of lies crumble into absolute dust.
