Chapter 6 - The Discovery Phase
The war moved from the wrought-iron gates of Westlake into the sterile, fluorescent-lit conference rooms of downtown Dallas legal offices.
My father’s attorney, a pompous old-money lawyer named Harrison Vance, filed dozens of sweeping discovery requests, demanding ten years of my personal tax returns, bank statements, corporate ledger entries, and personal correspondence.
They were fishing. They assumed that somewhere, somehow, I must have taken a shortcut—that a young woman couldn't possibly build a multi-million dollar tech company without a man’s secret backing.
I didn't just comply with their discovery requests; I flooded them.
Under Marcus’s direction, my legal team produced over 15,000 pages of immaculate financial records, cross-referenced with bank receipts, tax filings, and audited corporate ledgers.
And then, we issued our counter-discovery requests.
We demanded a full accounting of Arthur Donovan’s financial transfers to Tyler over the last decade, citing their claim that Tyler was a "co-beneficiary of family capital assets."
That was the moment the trap snapped shut.
Three weeks into the discovery phase, Marcus called me into his office in Austin. He was smiling—a rare, razor-sharp smile I had never seen before.
“Maren, take a look at this,” Marcus said, sliding a thick blue folder across his polished mahogany desk.
I sat down and opened the file.
“What am I looking at?”
“Your father didn't just give Tyler $350,000 for that house,” Marcus explained, pointing his pen at a series of wire transfers highlighted in yellow. “Over the last six years, Arthur has secretly diverted over $1.4 million from his own small-scale commercial real estate firm into Tyler’s personal accounts to cover his bad debts, failed ventures, and luxury credit lines.”
I blinked. “One point four million?”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “And here’s the kicker. Arthur’s company isn't a sole proprietorship. He has three silent business partners who hold a 45% stake in the firm. Arthur didn't disclose those capital withdrawals to his partners. He listed them on the company books as 'consulting expenses' and 'market development costs.'”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
My father hadn't just favored Tyler; he had committed corporate embezzlement to fund Tyler’s playboy lifestyle. He had spent his partners’ money to keep his golden son afloat, and now that his partners were requesting their annual financial audit, Arthur was facing absolute ruin.
That was why he needed my house. That was why he was desperately trying to sue me for 30% of Vanguard Tech.
He wasn't trying to help Tyler buy a house anymore. He was trying to steal my company to pay back the $1.4 million he had stolen from his own business partners before they sent him to federal prison.
I leaned back in the heavy leather chair, staring at the yellow lines on the paper.
The grand, proud titan of the Donovan family—the man who spoke of legacy, honor, and responsibility while treating me like dirt—was nothing more than a thief in a tailored suit.
“Maren,” Marcus said gently. “If we present these records during next week’s deposition, your father’s legal team will be forced to withdraw their suit immediately to avoid criminal referral. But once those documents hit the court docket, his business partners will see them. He will lose his firm, his reputation, and likely his freedom.”
Marcus looked at me intently.
“You have the power to destroy him, Maren. Completely.”
I sat in the quiet office, listening to the soft hum of the air conditioner, feeling the weight of the moment settling over my shoulders.
I thought about the night at the restaurant—the sound of the spoon tapping against the glass, the arrogant smile on Tyler’s face, my father’s dismissive voice asking me to cover the mortgage while my mother looked on with tears of pride for her son.
May you like
I looked at Marcus.
“Schedule the deposition for Friday,” I said softly. “And tell my father to bring his wife and son.”
