Chapter 12
In mid-November, Jennifer attended her formal deposition at the downtown offices of Miller & Associates. The conference room was stark and professional, with polished cherrywood furniture and large windows overlooking the gray autumn river.
Marcus’s defense attorney, a sharp-suited man with slicked-back hair, attempted to rattle her during the cross-examination, suggesting she had tacitly benefited from Marcus’s financial manipulations.
Jennifer met his gaze without a flicker of hesitation.
"I managed our household budget within the legal boundaries of my own income and explicit joint disclosures," Jennifer stated clearly, her voice devoid of defensive emotion. "Every loan application bearing my maiden name was executed without my knowledge or consent. The forensic audit conducted by Detective Vance's division confirms that my personal accounts were entirely segregated from the unauthorized transactions."
The defense attorney shifted uncomfortably in his seat, realizing that intimidation tactics were useless against someone who had spent months unravelling every lie he tried to present. He shuffled his papers, muttered a brief "No further questions," and sat down.
The prosecutor offered Jennifer a discreet, approving nod as she stepped down from the witness chair.
May you like
As she left the building and walked out into the crisp afternoon air, she saw Marcus standing across the street near a curbside bench. He looked older, his navy suit replaced by a plain grey trench coat, his shoulders rounded by the crushing weight of his impending trial. He looked across the boulevard, his eyes locking onto hers for a fraction of a second.
Jennifer did not stop. She did not falter. She simply looked at him with calm indifference—the ultimate opposite of hatred—and continued walking toward the subway station, her heels clicking a steady rhythm against the concrete.
