Chapter 7 - The Deposition from Hell
The deposition of Tessa Reed took place on the last Friday of January in the neutral territory of the Wake County Court Reporters Association on Martin Street.
Under North Carolina law, because our civil claims included Alienation of Affections and Criminal Conversation—claims Rachel had filed with ruthless precision against Tessa individually—Tessa was required to sit across the table and answer questions under oath, recorded on both stenographic tape and high-definition video.
When Tessa entered Conference Room C, she looked nothing like the polished, emerald-clad siren who had preened beside our Christmas tree.
Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a hasty, messy bun. She wore an ill-fitting charcoal pant-suit from a mid-tier department store, completely devoid of jewelry. Her wrist, once adorned with the diamond tennis bracelet Daniel had purchased with embezzled corporate funds, was bare, showing an angry red friction mark from an allergic reaction to cheap metal. Beside her sat a court-appointed public defender named Henderson, an exhausted-looking young man who looked like he would rather be anywhere else on earth.
Rachel Sterling sat at the center of the table, flanked by Marcus and me. A video technician adjusted the camera mounted on a tripod behind us, the red recording light blinking to life with an ominous, steady pulse.
“We are on the record,” the court reporter announced. “This is the deposition of Tessa Marie Reed in the matter of *Claire Hayes versus Tessa Reed*, Wake County District Court, Civil Action Number 23-CVD-8941.”
Rachel leaned forward, resting her hands on a slim yellow legal pad. Her posture was that of a surgeon selecting a scalpel.
“State your full legal name and current address for the record,” Rachel began.
“Tessa Marie Reed,” she mumbled, looking down at the Formica table. “Currently residing at... the Extended Stay America on Wake Forest Road.”
The mighty had fallen all the way to an extended-stay motel beside the highway.
“Miss Reed,” Rachel said smoothly, “prior to your residence at the motel, you resided at Unit 412 of Juniper Residential in Durham, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And who paid the twelve-month lease commitment totaling thirty-four thousand dollars for that residence?”
Tessa’s eyes darted toward her attorney. Henderson shrugged slightly, offering no lifeline. Under oath, perjury was a felony.
“Daniel paid it,” Tessa whispered.
“Daniel Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“And when Daniel Hayes paid that lease, were you aware that he was utilizing funds siphoned from BioTech Dynamics travel expense accounts?”
“No!” Tessa snapped, her voice suddenly spiking with defensiveness. “He told me it was his executive housing allowance! He told me BioTech gave him ten thousand dollars a month for regional client entertainment! He lied to me!”
Rachel didn't react to the outburst. She merely flipped a page on her legal pad. “Did Daniel Hayes also tell you that he had divorced his wife, Claire Hayes?”
Tessa swallowed hard. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. “He said... he said they were separated. He said the marriage was over in every way that mattered. He said they only lived in the same house because of Nora’s medical insurance.”
“Did you ever verify that claim?”
“No.”
“Did you ever ask to see a legal separation agreement?”
“No.”
“In fact, Miss Reed,” Rachel said, her voice dropping into a lethal, rhythmic cadence, “you visited the marital residence on November fourteenth while Claire Hayes was visiting her sister in Wilmington, didn't you?”
Tessa froze. Her eyes widened in panic. “I... I don't remember.”
Marcus slid an eight-by-ten glossy photograph across the table. It was captured by our home security system—footage Daniel thought he had permanently erased from the cloud server, but which Arthur Pendelton had recovered from the internal hard drive cache.
The photograph showed Tessa standing in my kitchen, wearing one of my monogrammed silk robes, pouring wine from a bottle Daniel had bought for our anniversary, while Nora sat on the counter eating ice cream.
“Is that you, Miss Reed?” Rachel asked.
Tessa stared at the image, her chest heaving, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “Daniel told me... he said it was fine. He said Claire knew.”
“He told you his wife knew you were wearing her bathrobe in her kitchen while feeding her four-year-old child ice cream at nine o'clock at night?” Rachel’s tone was incredulous, dripping with a contempt so sharp it seemed to cut the air.
“I didn't force him!” Tessa suddenly shrieked, losing every shred of control. She slammed her palms against the table, glaring directly at me with raw, venomous hatred. “He hated you, Claire! He complained about you every single day! He said you were boring! He said you were cold! He said you were a glorified nanny who spent all your time worrying about preschool schedules while he wanted a real woman who understood his ambition!”
Her attorney reached out, grabbing her arm. “Tessa, stop talking. Calm down.”
“No!” she screamed, shaking off his hand, tears of humiliation and fury streaking her mascara down her cheeks. “He promised me a life! He promised me a house in North Ridge! He promised me an equity partnership in his father’s firm! And he was broke! He was a liar, an embezzler, and a pathetic coward who cried in my car every time his mother called him!”
She turned back to Rachel, panting, her hair completely unspooling from its pins. “You want to know what he said? He told me his mother had a plan. Patricia had a doctor friend who was going to write a psychiatric evaluation saying Claire had postpartum psychosis that never resolved. They were going to use it to get full custody, take Claire’s trust fund to pay off Howard’s commercial mortgage, and move me into the North Ridge house by next summer!”
The conference room fell into an absolute, deafening silence.
The court reporter’s fingers flew across the stenotype keys with a soft, mechanical clatter.
Beside me, Rachel slowly set her pen down on the legal pad. She looked at Tessa’s public defender, who had closed his eyes in pure despair.
“Let the record reflect,” Rachel said, her voice perfectly calm, perfectly lethal, “that the deponent has just testified under oath to a criminal conspiracy involving Daniel Hayes, Patricia Hayes, and an unnamed medical professional to falsify medical records, execute custodial fraud, and commit grand theft of trust assets.”
Rachel looked at the court reporter. “I will require an expedited certified transcript of this testimony within twenty-four hours. We are delivering a copy directly to the Office of the United States Attorney for the Eastern District of North Carolina.”
Tessa’s jaw went slack. The fury drained out of her face, replaced by a sudden, sickening realization of what she had just done. She had attempted to hurt me with Daniel’s words, but in her unhinged vanity, she had handed us the master key to dismantle the entire Hayes family empire.
She slowly sank back into her chair, her hands covering her mouth, letting out a low, whimpering moan that sounded like an animal caught in a snare.
I looked at her across the table, feeling nothing but a profound, quiet stillness.
“Thank you for your honesty, Tessa,” I said softly.
May you like
Then I stood up, gathered my coat, and walked out into the bright, freezing sunshine of downtown Raleigh, leaving her behind in the wreckage of the trap she had helped build.
***
