Chapter 3 - The Deposition
Two weeks later, we gathered in a glass-walled conference room on the thirty-fourth floor of a skyscraper in downtown City Center for the formal financial depositions.
Caspian was there, looking noticeably worse than he had at the evaluator’s review. His suit was slightly rumpled, dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his hands twitched slightly whenever he picked up his pen. Beside him sat his attorney, Vance, whose demeanor had shifted from arrogant superiority to desperate damage control.
Sitting across from them was my father, accompanied by his own newly hired criminal defense attorney, a stone-faced man named Miller.
Eleanor sat at the head of the table, surrounded by three towering stacks of financial ledgers, tax returns, and bank statements obtained through our emergency subpoenas.
A court reporter sat at the end, her fingers poised over her stenography machine.
“State your name for the record,” Eleanor began, looking across the table at my father.
“Arthur Hayes,” Dad muttered. He looked old. The sharp, commanding patriarch who had ruled our family with an iron fist for thirty years looked smaller, his posture stooped, his skin graying.
“Mr. Hayes,” Eleanor said, pulling a document from the top stack. “I am presenting Exhibit D. This is a wire transfer record from your personal checking account to ‘Vance Development LLC,’ dated November fourteenth of last year, in the amount of seventy-five thousand dollars. Can you identify this transaction?”
Dad looked at his lawyer, Miller, who gave him a brief, grim nod.
“It was an investment,” Dad said softly. “A short-term loan to my son-in-law.”
“And was this ‘short-term loan’ made two days after your daughter, Cora, informed you that she had discovered Mr. Vance’s infidelity and intended to file for divorce?”
Dad swallowed hard. “I don't recall the exact timeline.”
“I do,” Eleanor said, pulling out a second sheet. “Here is the text message you sent to Mr. Vance on November twelfth. I quote: ‘Arthur, Cora is talking about leaving. If she files, the accounts will be frozen. Transfer the seventy-five grand today to keep the escrow open, and I will handle Cora.’ End quote.”
Caspian slammed his hand flat onto the table. “This is irrelevant! This is a private business matter between my father-in-law and me! It has nothing to do with my children!”
“It has everything to do with your children, Mr. Vance,” Eleanor shot back, her voice ringing like a bell. “Because forty-eight hours after receiving that seventy-five thousand dollars, you and Mr. Hayes drafted a fraudulent custody statement alleging that my client was mentally unfit, homeless by choice, and endangering the children.”
Vance, Caspian’s lawyer, leaned over to his client. “Caspian, shut up,” he whispered loudly through his teeth.
Eleanor turned back to my father. “Mr. Hayes, on the night of October twelfth, when your daughter arrived at your doorstep with three tired, hungry children, did you have two unoccupied bedrooms in your house?”
“Yes,” Dad whispered.
“Was one of those bedrooms fully furnished and designated for guest use?”
“Yes.”
“And why did you refuse her entry?”
Dad’s hands trembled on the table. He looked at me for the first time since we had entered the room. His eyes were bloodshot, carrying a mixture of shame, panic, and an old, lingering entitlement.
“Because,” Dad said, his voice cracking, “if she stayed with us... if she didn't go back to Caspian... we were going to lose the deposit on the commercial land in Westford. Landis was going to lose his job at the firm. Caspian told me that if Cora left him, he would declare bankruptcy and leave me holding the debt.”
“So you locked your daughter and your three grandchildren out in the cold,” Eleanor stated, her voice flat, emotionless, and devastating, “to protect a seventy-five-thousand-dollar real estate deposit.”
“I thought she’d go back!” Dad cried out, his voice breaking into a ragged sob. “I thought if she had nowhere else to go, she’d go home to her husband and work it out! Families stay together! You don't just walk away!”
“She didn't walk away from a family, Mr. Hayes,” Eleanor said, marking the document with a red pen. “She walked away from a transaction.”
She turned to the court reporter. “Let the record reflect that the witness has confirmed financial collusion and fraudulent intent regarding the affidavit submitted to the Family Court on January fifth.”
May you like
Caspian’s lawyer, Vance, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked across the table at Eleanor.
“Ms. Vance,” Vance said, his voice completely drained of fight. “Can we step into the hall for a private conference?”
