Chapter 9 - The Deposition Trap
The conference room at Sterling Legal Group was a fortress of polished mahogany, floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline, and chilling, professional silence. Marcus sat at the long table, looking visibly hollowed out. Beside him sat a court-appointed legal aid attorney—the only lawyer who would take his case on short notice after his funds were frozen.
Across the table sat Jessica Pierce, three associate attorneys, and a court reporter ready to transcribe every syllable. I sat at the far end of the table, dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit, my posture straight and unwavering. I didn't look like the bleeding, exhausted woman he had bullied in the NICU. I looked like Arthur Sterling’s granddaughter.
Marcus glared at me across the mahogany wood. "You really think you can destroy my life over a misunderstanding, Elena? I was stressed! The medical bills were going to bankrupt us! I did what any man would do to protect his financial future!"
I didn't answer him. I let Jessica handle the talking.
"Mr. Vance," Jessica said, opening a thick leather binder. "You claim you acted out of financial desperation. Yet, on the day of the twins' premature birth, you transferred four hundred thousand dollars from your firm's client escrow account into a private offshore fund in the Cayman Islands. Would you care to explain that transaction?"
Marcus’s attorney leaned over, whispering frantically into his ear. Marcus waved him off, his arrogance overriding his survival instinct. "That was a standard business restructuring! It had nothing to do with the divorce!"
"Is that so?" Jessica pressed a button on her remote control. The large wall monitor flickered to life, displaying a screenshot of a text message sent from Marcus’s personal phone.
“The runts are born early. Doctors say it's touch and go. Perfect timing. I’m draining the accounts today and forcing her to sign the waiver while she’s drugged up. By the time she wakes up, we’ll be in St. Barts, baby.”
Marcus went dead pale. His jaw opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Where... where did you get that? That's fabricated! You hacked my phone!"
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The side door of the conference room opened. Chloe walked in, accompanied by two security guards. She didn't look at Marcus. She walked straight to Jessica and handed over a flash drive.
"She didn't hack anything, Marcus," Chloe said coldly, her voice dripping with contempt. "I gave it to them. Along with the receipts for the jewelry you bought me using stolen client money."
