Chapter 8 - The Deposition
Three months later, I sat across from Marcus in a sterile conference room for our divorce deposition.
He was a shell of the man who had hit me that night. Without his high-paying job, his tailored suits, and his perfect reputation, he looked small. Exhausted. The arrogance that used to radiate from him had been replaced by a desperate, nervous energy.
Diane sat beside me, her files perfectly organized. Marcus's lawyer, a cheap attorney he had to hire after his accounts were frozen, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"For the record," Diane started, sliding a stack of photographs across the table. "We have the medical records of the bruising from November 12th. We have the grocery store footage. And we have the forensic accounting showing Mr. Reynolds attempted to hide marital assets in an offshore LLC."
Marcus stared at the table, his jaw ticking.
"He will sign over full physical custody of Lily," Diane stated, not asking. "He will surrender his equity in the house to cover the back spousal support he owes. In exchange, my client will not press criminal battery charges, which would carry a mandatory jail sentence."
Marcus looked up at me. His eyes were pleading, trying to find the weak, accommodating girl he had married. "Sarah... please. You're taking everything. Don't do this."
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I looked at him. I searched my heart for pity, for love, for anything at all.
"I'm not doing anything, Marcus," I said calmly. "You did this to yourself."
