Chapter 11: The Deposition
The conference room on the tenth floor of Marcus’s law firm was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic clicking of the court stenographer’s machine. Julian sat upright at the head of the polished oak table, his expression calm and resolute. Across the room sat Beatrice, flanked by two high-priced defense attorneys who looked visibly exhausted. Beatrice had clearly aged ten years in the span of a few months; her elaborate white updo was gone, replaced by unstyled hair, and her tailored designer suit hung loosely on her frame. The veneer of untouchable high-society elegance had completely eroded.
The presiding magistrate, overseeing the preliminary civil depositions, reviewed the extensive file of financial records and photographic evidence submitted by Marcus’s team.
"Mrs. Vance," the magistrate began, his voice stern and professional. "You are here today to provide a formal deposition regarding the alleged misappropriation of funds designated for the care of your granddaughter, Lily Vance, as well as documented charges of endangerment."
Beatrice’s defense attorney immediately leaned in, attempting to interject with procedural objections regarding health and age, but the magistrate cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Overruled, Counsel. Your client is fully competent to answer."
Beatrice swallowed hard, her eyes darting across the room before landing squarely on Julian. There was no warmth in her gaze, only a bitter, burning resentment.
"Well, Beatrice?" Julian said, his voice quiet, steady, and devoid of malice. "The floor is yours. Explain how you managed to spend two hundred and forty thousand dollars meant for a child while locking her away in a shed."
Beatrice’s lower lip trembled slightly before she regained her composure, adopting a defensive, haughty tone. "You have no idea what it takes to maintain appearances in our circle, Julian. Everything I did was to protect the family name—to secure a future where we remained relevant. You abandoned your responsibilities when your wife died, burying yourself in spreadsheets while I was left to pick up the pieces of your broken life."
"You weren't picking up pieces, Mother. You were cashing checks and hiding a human being," Julian replied, his voice unwavering. "And now, your social circle is gone, your husband has annulled our marriage, and your freedom is slipping through your fingers. You built a house of cards on greed, and it finally collapsed."
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The stenographer’s machine clicked furiously, capturing every word of the damning exchange. Beatrice’s attorneys exchanged worried glances, realizing that their client’s defensive arrogance was destroying any remaining chance of a mitigated sentence.
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