Chapter 5 - The Deposition
The conference room at Nora Hayes & Associates smelled of fresh legal pads and intimidation.
Ethan sat across the table, flanked by a new attorney—a nervous-looking young man named Miller who kept nervously flipping through a legal pad as if searching for a magic spell that would make his client invisible.
Nora sat to my right, her silver hair catching the fluorescent light like a halo of controlled fury.
I sat directly across from Ethan, my posture straight, my hands resting calmly on the table. I wasn't carrying Lily today; she was with Margaret for two hours, sleeping in her crib while her mother dismantled her father's financial empire.
"Mr. Mercer," Nora began, her voice ringing out like a judge's gavel. "Let’s review Exhibit C. These are the corporate credit card statements from October through January. Can you explain why there are thirty-two separate charges for luxury dining at St. Elmo Steakhouse, all occurring while your wife was on modified bed rest during her eighth month of pregnancy?"
Ethan didn't look at the papers. He looked at me.
His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles carved deep into his face. The charcoal suit he wore today looked like it had been slept in—because, as we later found out from the extended-stay motel clerk, it had been.
"Hannah," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling. "Please. Drop the criminal referral for the Vanguard account. If the state prosecutor picks up the felony fraud charges, I won't just lose my job. I'll go to prison. Ten years, Hannah. Ten years."
"You should have thought about ten years ago when you were drafting shell companies under your mistress's maiden name," I said, my voice completely devoid of inflection. "You didn't care about my ten years when you walked out on a six-day-old infant."
Attorney Miller leaned over, whispering frantically in Ethan’s ear. Ethan pushed him away with a sharp shove of his elbow.
"I made a mistake!" Ethan shouted, slamming his hand down on the table so hard the water glasses rattled. "People make mistakes! We were under stress! The baby—the pregnancy—it changed everything between us! You weren't the woman I married! You were just... you were just a mother!"
The room went dead silent.
Even Nora stopped writing.
I looked at Ethan—really looked at him—and for the first time, I felt a strange, profound sense of pity. Not for him, but for the girl I used to be, the one who had spent eleven years convincing herself that this selfish, fragile coward was a partner.
"No, Ethan," I said softly, leaning forward so my voice was barely above a whisper. "I didn't change. I just grew up. You, on the other hand, stayed exactly the same—a frightened little boy who expects the world to applaud every time he manages to tie his own shoes."
I slid a single document across the table toward his attorney.
"What’s this?" Miller asked, picking it up with trembling fingers.
"It’s the final settlement offer," Nora answered smoothly. "Mr. Mercer signs over 100% of the equity in the Maplewood Drive property, relinquishes all claims to joint retirement funds, agrees to twenty-four years of maximum child support, and consents to a permanent non-disparagement clause regarding the minor child."
"And if he doesn't sign?" Miller asked, his voice shaking.
Nora smiled—a terrifying, predatory grin that made the young lawyer pale.
"Then we hand these certified bank records directly to the United States Attorney's office for federal wire fraud and tax evasion. The federal pen has wonderful accommodations for rising corporate executives. Very minimalist. Excellent for weight loss."
Ethan stared at the paper.
He didn't look at his lawyer. He didn't look at the door.
May you like
Slowly, with trembling fingers, he picked up the heavy Montblanc pen—the one I had bought him for his promotion five years ago—and signed his name at the bottom of the page.
***
