Chapter 27 - The Deposition
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The deposition took place in a sterile conference room in a downtown high-rise. I sat beside Naomi, wearing a tailored navy suit that felt like armor.
When Andrew walked in, I barely recognized him. He had lost weight, but not in a healthy way. His skin was sallow, his hair unkempt, and his suit hung loosely on his frame. He looked like a man who was being slowly consumed from the inside out by his own bad decisions.
He refused to meet my eyes when he sat down across the long wooden table.
His lawyer, a slick man in his early thirties named Vance, started the questioning aggressively. He badgered me about my income, my work hours, and my investments. I answered every question calmly, concisely, and without a trace of emotion. I did not justify, I did not explain, and I did not apologize. I simply stated facts.
"Isn't it true," Vance sneered, leaning forward, "that you deliberately structured your clinical bonuses to hide them from the joint marital accounts?"
"No," I replied evenly. "My bonuses were direct-deposited into the primary checking account. The records you subpoenaed clearly show this."
Andrew finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "You always controlled the money," he muttered, breaking protocol. "You made me feel like a child begging for an allowance."
I stared at him, letting the silence stretch until it became profoundly uncomfortable for everyone in the room.
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"I managed the money, Andrew," I said softly, staring directly into his soul, "because you kept spending it on hotel rooms."
Vance choked on his coffee. Naomi placed a steadying hand on my arm, but she was hiding a smirk. Andrew flushed a deep, ugly red and looked back down at his hands. The illusion of his victimhood had just shattered against the hard concrete of reality.
