Chapter 4 - The Deposition in Room 402
Two weeks later.
The air inside Conference Room 402 of the Allegheny County Courthouse was thick with the scent of stale coffee, expensive leather, and impending doom.
I sat on one side of the massive oak table, wearing a tailored charcoal suit, my posture straight and composed. Beside me sat Arthur Pendelton and Carl Jenkins, surrounded by stacks of color-coded financial binders.
Across from us sat my mother and sister.
Marissa looked disastrous. The polished, arrogant facade she had worn on Hawthorne Lane had completely shattered. She wore a simple dark dress, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, dark circles lingering under her eyes. Beside her sat her defense attorney, a sleek, overpriced man named Jonathan Drake, who looked visibly exhausted by his client.
My mother sat in the corner of the room, holding a lace handkerchief, dabbing at eyes that held no real tears—only the bitter anger of a woman who had lost control of her narrative.
"We are here today for the preliminary deposition in the matter of Holloway v. Holloway & Holloway Enterprises," Drake began, clearing his throat. "Before we officially enter these proceedings into the court record, my client, Marissa Holloway, wishes to offer a full settlement proposal."
Arthur Pendelton leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his briefcase. "We are listening, Mr. Drake."
Drake slid a single piece of paper across the table. "Marissa is prepared to sign over her interest in her fashion boutique, relinquish all claims to the property on Hawthorne Lane, and enter into a formal repayment structure for the $64,000 over a period of ten years. In exchange, Ms. Evelyn Holloway will drop all civil fraud claims and request that the District Attorney decline pressing criminal felony charges."
I looked at the piece of paper, then looked up at Marissa.
"Ten years?" I asked softly. "Six hundred dollars a month for ten years?"
"It’s the best she can do, Evelyn!" my mother blurted out from the corner. "She’s your sister! Do you want her to go to prison?!"
"Mrs. Holloway, please control yourself," Drake warned his client’s mother sternly.
"I have a question for Marissa," I said, ignoring my mother entirely.
Marissa shifted uncomfortably in her chair, avoiding my gaze. "What?"
"The night you changed the locks," I said, leaning forward across the oak table. "When you stood behind that door with the chain on, watching my twelve-year-old daughter shivering in the rain... what did you think was going to happen to us?"
Marissa’s jaw tightened. "I thought you'd go to a hotel for the night. I thought you'd finally realize that you couldn't boss everyone around in that house anymore."
"You thought I would be broken," I corrected quietly. "You thought I would be so desperate for shelter that I would accept whatever scraps you gave me. You thought I would keep paying the mortgage while you lived off my equity."
"Evelyn, please—" Marissa whimpered, her voice finally cracking with genuine panic.
"Mr. Drake," Arthur Pendelton interrupted, pulling three new documents from his folder and sliding them across the table. "Your client's settlement offer is rejected. Furthermore, we have just been informed that the United States Small Business Administration has opened a secondary investigation into Marissa Holloway Enterprises for fraudulent pandemic relief grants totaling $45,000."
Jonathan Drake’s eyes flew open. He turned his head slowly to look at Marissa. "What?"
Marissa went dead silent. The color drained completely from her face.
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"Your client didn't just steal from her sister, Mr. Drake," Pendelton said with lethal precision. "She committed federal wire fraud. The District Attorney has already signed the arrest warrant. The officers are waiting outside this conference room."
My mother let out a sharp, choked shriek as the door to Conference Room 402 clicked open, and two state troopers walked inside.
