Chapter 5 - The Deposition
Six weeks later.
The conference room on the fifty-fifth floor of a downtown skyscraper was blindlingly bright, flooded with sunlight reflecting off Lake Michigan.
Around the long glass table sat the players in our legal war.
On my side: Victoria Vance, Arthur Pendelton, and me.
On the opposite side: Daniel Mercer, his court-appointed defense attorney, Fiona Vance, and her separate business council.
Daniel looked terrible. He had lost at least fifteen pounds; his suit—a cheaper, off-the-rack brand he had been forced to buy after his high-end wardrobe was frozen—hung loosely on his shoulders. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes.
Fiona sat two seats away from him. They hadn't spoken a single word to each other since entering the room. The grand romance that had survived four years of secret hotel rooms had completely dissolved under the weight of joint legal liability.
A court reporter sat at the end of the table, her fingers poised over the stenography machine.
"We are on the record," Victoria announced, opening her thick blue binder. "This is the deposition of Daniel Mercer in the matter of Vance v. Mercer & Vance."
Victoria looked across the table at Daniel. Her eyes were sharp, merciless.
"Mr. Mercer," Victoria began. "Under penalty of perjury, please state your full legal name for the record."
"Daniel Thomas Mercer," he muttered quietly.
"Speak up, please," the court reporter requested.
"Daniel Thomas Mercer," he repeated, louder this time.
"Mr. Mercer," Victoria continued smoothly. "I direct your attention to Exhibit C in your binder. This is a bank transfer record dated March 14th, 2024, in the amount of $22,000, transferred from the marital joint account at Chase Bank into an account named Fiona’s Floral Design. Did you authorize this transfer?"
Daniel looked at his attorney, who gave him a brief, grim nod.
"Yes," Daniel whispered.
"And what was the business purpose of this $22,000 transfer?" Victoria asked.
"It was... it was a loan," Daniel stammered. "A temporary personal loan."
"A loan?" Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Was there a written loan agreement between you and Miss Vance?"
"No."
"Was there an agreed-upon interest rate?"
"No."
"Did your wife, Natalie Vance, know about or consent to this $22,000 'loan' drawn from her personal inheritance distributions?"
Daniel swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward me for a split second before darting away. "No."
"I see," Victoria said, swiping to the next page. "Now, let’s turn to Exhibit D. This is a flight confirmation for two first-class tickets to St. Thomas, along with a five-night stay at the Ritz-Carlton, totaling $14,800. Paid for using the same joint account. Did you take this trip with your wife, Natalie?"
Daniel’s face flushed dark red. "No."
"Who accompanied you on this $14,800 luxury vacation, Mr. Mercer?"
Daniel remained silent. The quiet in the conference room stretched for ten agonizing seconds.
"Mr. Mercer," Victoria pressed, her voice dripping with lethal patience. "Answer the question. Who accompanied you?"
"Fiona Vance," Daniel choked out.
Fiona closed her eyes tightly, gripping her hands beneath the table.
"And while you were on this $14,800 trip with your wife's sister," Victoria continued, "what did you tell your wife you were doing?"
Daniel stared at the glass table. "I... I told her I was at a financial conference in Atlanta."
"So you lied to her?"
"Objection," Daniel’s lawyer cut in weakly. "Argumentative."
"I'll rephrase," Victoria said with a cold smile. "Mr. Mercer, was it your standard practice throughout your four-year extramarital affair with your wife’s sister to misappropriate marital and trust assets to fund your personal lifestyle while actively deceiving your spouse?"
Daniel’s attorney leaned over, whispering furiously in Daniel’s ear. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head.
"On the advice of my counsel," Daniel whispered, "I assert my Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination."
Victoria smiled—a terrifying, triumphant expression.
"Let the record show," Victoria declared loudly to the stenographer, "that the defendant has invoked the Fifth Amendment regarding the systematic misappropriation of funds."
Victoria turned her eyes to Fiona.
"Miss Vance," Victoria said, shifting her focus like a sniper taking aim at a second target. "Since your co-defendant has chosen to remain silent, let's discuss your corporate tax returns from 2022 to 2025..."
For the next four hours, Victoria systematically dismantled every excuse, every lie, and every financial distortion Daniel and Fiona had built over four years.
By the time the deposition concluded at 4:00 PM, Daniel looked completely hollowed out. Fiona was sobbing silently into a tissue, her business attorney staring at his notes with a expression of pure defeat.
As everyone stood up to pack their papers, Daniel stepped around the table, approaching me while the lawyers were engaged in hushed conversation near the door.
"Natalie," Daniel whispered, his voice trembling with genuine, broken desperation. "Please... I’m begging you. Don't take everything. I have nothing left. My career is gone. My savings are gone. I’m living in a rented studio apartment in Cicero. I can't even pay my legal fees."
I looked at him—the man I had loved for six years, the man I had trusted with my heart, my home, and my future.
I didn't feel hatred. I didn't feel anger.
I felt nothing at all.
"You should have thought about your future before you canceled our anniversary dinner to take my sister to my favorite restaurant, Daniel," I said softly.
"I made a mistake!" he sobbed, reaching out as if to touch my hand, though he didn't dare cross the boundary. "I ruined my life for nothing! She doesn't even talk to me anymore! We hate each other!"
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"That wasn't a mistake, Daniel," I replied, pulling my leather handbag over my shoulder. "A mistake is forgetting to buy milk. What you did was a lifestyle. And now, you get to pay for it."
I turned my back on him, walking out of the conference room into the bright afternoon sun, leaving Daniel Mercer standing alone in the ruins of his own creation.
