Chapter 6 - The Federal Deposition
The federal courthouse downtown was a monolithic structure of gray limestone and towering glass pillars. Walking through the security scanners with Mr. Harrison by my side, I felt none of the intimidation that might have once gripped me. I was wearing a sharp navy blue blazer, my hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and my mind was entirely clear.
We were escorted to a high-ceilinged conference room on the fourth floor. Seated at the mahogany table were two assistant U.S. attorneys, a stenographer, and an FBI special agent who specialized in corporate white-collar crime.
"Mrs. Miller, thank you for being here," Agent Vance—no relation to my ex-husband, thankfully—said as we took our seats. "We know this is an incredibly stressful time for you, especially with a young infant at home, but your testimony is vital in locking down the federal conspiracy charges against Ethan Vance."
"I'm ready," I said simply, resting my hands on the table.
For the next two hours, the prosecutors walked me through a meticulous timeline spanning the last three years of my marriage. They laid out corporate expense reports, hotel receipts, flight itineraries, and text messages that Ethan thought he had permanently deleted.
As they projected a digital timeline onto the smartboard at the front of the room, a cold realization washed over me. The night I went into labor—the night Ethan claimed he was in Chicago for an emergency business presentation—was actually the exact night he had finalized the fraudulent wire transfers for the corporate embezzlement scheme. Chicago had never been a business trip; it had been a desperate attempt to liquidate company assets before an internal audit flagged his discrepancies.
"Mrs. Miller," the lead prosecutor asked, pointing to a highlighted entry on the screen dated October twelfth at 1:15 a.m. "According to your previous statement, this was the exact minute your water broke, and you called your husband while he was allegedly in his Chicago hotel room."
"Yes," I answered clearly. "That is correct."
"And during that phone call, did he sound like he was preparing for an early morning corporate presentation?"
"No," I replied, a bitter smile touching the corner of my lips. "He sounded distracted, panicked, and annoyed that I had interrupted him while he was in bed with his mistress."
The stenographer’s fingers clicked rhythmically against the keyboard, capturing every word. Agent Vance looked across the table with a sympathetic, respectful nod.
"Thank you, Mrs. Miller. That concludes our questions for today. Your cooperation has been invaluable to the Department of Justice."
As Mr. Harrison and I walked out of the federal building into the bright midday sun, I took a deep breath of the crisp air. The legal battles were drawing to a close, and the federal indictment was airtight. Ethan’s world was officially shrinking down to the concrete walls of a maximum-security federal holding facility.
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My phone chimed in my pocket. It was a text message from Nina: “Finished liquidating the vintage watch collection! Deposited $14,200 straight into Lily’s college fund. Drinks and celebratory sushi tonight?”
I laughed out loud, typing back: “You're on. See you at seven.”
