Chapter 7 - The Deposition Trap
The conference room on the fourteenth floor of the county courthouse smelled of lemon polish and nervous sweat. Derek sat across the wide glass table, wearing an ill-fitting navy suit that looked like it had been pulled from the bottom of a storage bin. His hair was unkempt, his jaw unshaven, and his usual swagger had dwindled into a tense, defensive scowl. Beside him sat a tired-looking public-sector attorney named Harold, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.
"We are here to resolve the matter of equitable distribution," Harold began, shuffling his papers. "My client asserts that during the four-year marriage, he contributed substantially to the appreciation of the Miami real estate, and due to his current lack of income, requires transitional rehabilitative alimony."
Elena didn't even look up from her legal pad. "Mr. Vance, under oath, please state your current monthly income."
Derek cleared his throat, avoiding my eyes. "Currently zero. Due to the traumatic nature of these proceedings and the defamatory campaign Clara waged online, my consulting clients have terminated their contracts."
"Interesting," Elena said, pulling out a sheaf of certified bank statements. "Let the record reflect document Exhibit D-14. Mr. Vance, is this your signature on an account opened at Coastal First Bank under the business name 'Vance Strategic Advisory'?"
Derek blinked, shifting uncomfortably in his leather chair. "I... I don't recall that specific account name."
"You don't recall an account that received forty-two thousand dollars routed from Clara’s personal account under the label 'Escrow Tax Reserve'?" Elena’s voice was as cold and sharp as a scalpel. "You don't recall withdrawing five thousand dollars in cash at the Seminole Hard Rock Casino on October 12, just twelve hours before you demanded twelve thousand dollars from Clara to pay your sister’s rent?"
Harold stopped shuffling his papers. He slowly turned his head to look at his client, his eyes wide with exasperation. "Derek... what is she talking about?"
"It was our money!" Derek exploded, slamming his palms onto the table just as he had done in my kitchen. "We were married! I had every right to manage our household assets! She was hoarding cash while my family was struggling!"
"Sir, you do not raise your voice in this room," Elena warned, leaning forward. "That account constitutes systematic domestic embezzlement exceeding eighty-five thousand dollars. In the state of Florida, grand theft of that magnitude carries a mandatory minimum sentence in state prison. Furthermore, we have evidence of fraudulent misrepresentation submitted on your financial affidavit to this court."
Derek looked at Harold, expecting his counsel to fight back. Instead, Harold quietly closed his folder, took off his reading glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Harold, say something!" Derek hissed, his voice trembling. "She’s lying! Tell her she can't do this!"
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"Derek, be quiet," Harold whispered harshly. "Counselor, may I have ten minutes with my client in the private anteroom?"
"You have five," Elena said calmly. "And when you come back, I expect a full waiver of all alimony claims, complete renunciation of any interest in the Miami property, and a structured restitution agreement for the stolen funds. If not, Detective Miller is already waiting downstairs in the lobby with a warrant for grand theft."
