Chapter 7 - The Depositions
Two weeks later, the formal deposition took place in the neutral boardroom of an arbitration facility in downtown Chicago.
Daniel looked like a ghost of the sharp, impeccably groomed attorney he had been a fortnight prior. His suit hung loosely from his shoulders, dark purple bags underlined his bloodshot eyes, and he couldn't stop bouncing his right knee under the table. His court-appointed divorce lawyer—since he could no longer afford his firm’s elite contemporaries—sat beside him, frantically scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
Across the table sat Emily.
She wore an elegant, tailored navy blazer, her hair styled with effortless grace, her posture straight and radiating calm authority. Beside her, Victoria Vance spread out a series of audited balance sheets that had been prepared by an independent forensic accountant appointed by the court.
""Let the record show,"" Victoria began, speaking directly into the recording microphone, ""that on this date, November 18th, respondent Daniel Hale has submitted his sworn financial affidavit. Mr. Hale, do you reaffirm under penalty of perjury that the four hundred and twenty-three thousand dollars held in the offshore brokerages represents the full extent of your concealed marital assets?""
Daniel swallowed hard, glancing desperately at his lawyer, who simply gave a reluctant, resigned nod.
""Yes,"" Daniel whispered.
""Speak up, please, Mr. Hale,"" Victoria instructed sharply.
""Yes,"" Daniel said louder, his voice trembling.
""Excellent,"" Victoria smiled. ""Now let us turn to Exhibit D. This is a complete audit of the joint checking account funded almost exclusively by Emily Hale’s municipal salary over the past thirty-six months. Over three years, Emily contributed eighty-four thousand dollars to what you described as a 'Gold Coast condo fund.' Can you show this court where that eighty-four thousand dollars currently resides?""
Daniel looked down at his lap, his knuckles turning white.
""Mr. Hale?"" Victoria pressed, her voice cutting like a scalpel. ""Did you, or did you not, transfer thirty-five thousand dollars from that shared account to pay off your mother’s personal credit card debt in October of last year?""
""I... I helped my mother,"" Daniel mumbled. ""She was facing foreclosure.""
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""Without your wife's knowledge or consent, while forcing her to eat discounted meat and skip medical appointments to save money,"" Victoria stated coldly. ""We have the bank transfers. We have the text messages where you mocked Emily’s frugality to your mother, referring to her as your 'live-in housekeeper who pays rent.'""
Emily watched Daniel's face crumble. For three years, she had believed his excuses. She had felt guilty whenever she bought a three-dollar coffee on a freezing winter morning. Seeing the cold, hard numbers laid out under the bright fluorescent lights stripped away the last remaining shred of grief she had carried. There was no sadness left inside her—only the profound, liberating realization that she was finally free from a pair of sociopaths.
