Chapter 6 - The Deposition
The civil lawsuit ran parallel to the criminal trial. My legal team was systematically stripping Valerie of every single asset she had ever touched during our marriage.
The deposition took place in Marcus Sterling’s office.
Valerie sat across the long mahogany table, flanked by a tired-looking public defender—the only lawyer she could get after the court froze all her marital assets. She looked gaunt, her skin pale from months in the county jail awaiting trial.
Marcus sat at the head of the table, turning on the recording equipment.
"State your name for the record," Marcus ordered.
"Valerie Anne Vance," she muttered, staring at her handcuffed wrists resting on the table.
"Mrs. Vance," Marcus began, pulling out a stack of high-definition photographs. They were screenshots from the surveillance footage. "Do you recognize the room in this photograph?"
"It's the sunroom in my house," she said defensively.
"David's house," Marcus corrected smoothly. "Purchased prior to the marriage. In this photograph, you are holding a wooden broom. Can you explain why you are raising it above an elderly woman's head?"
"I told the police," Valerie snapped, a hint of her old venom returning. "She was having an episode. She was thrashing. I was trying to defend myself."
Marcus didn't argue. He just pulled out the next photograph. It was a close-up of my mother’s bruised, broken wrist.
"Did you defend yourself against her wrist, Valerie?" Marcus asked coldly. "Medical records indicate this fracture occurred approximately four weeks before Mr. Vance returned home. Did you seek medical attention for your mother-in-law?"
"She said she was fine! She fell out of her wheelchair!"
"We have video of you pushing her out of the wheelchair," Marcus stated, sliding the next photo across the table.
Valerie looked away, her jaw clenched tightly.
"Let's move on to the finances," Marcus continued relentlessly. "Did you, or did you not, attempt to wire four million dollars to a Cayman Islands account on the afternoon of your arrest?"
"I was following the advice of our legal counsel, Harrison Price!" she cried. "He told me it was a tax shelter! I didn't know it was illegal!"
Marcus smiled. He pressed a button on his laptop. The enhanced audio of her midnight phone call with Harrison filled the room.
“By the time he figures out what hit him, the offshore accounts and the real estate will legally belong to us.”
The recording clicked off.
"Does that sound like a woman who doesn't understand she is committing a crime, Mrs. Vance?" Marcus asked.
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Valerie buried her face in her hands and began to weep. It wasn't the manipulative, fake crying she used to use on me. It was the deep, agonizing sobbing of a person who realizes they are entirely, utterly trapped with no escape route.
I watched her cry, feeling a profound sense of closure. The monster wasn't hiding under the bed anymore. She was dragged out into the harsh light of day, and she was terrified.
