Chapter 7 - The Deposition Trap
The following Thursday morning, the war escalated to a lethal new height.
We were gathered in the main deposition conference room at Sterling & Associates Law Firm on the top floor of the Wells Fargo Center.
The atmosphere in the room was suffocatingly tense. On one side sat Richard Sterling, flanked by two assistant defense attorneys, along with Arthur Vance and Diego. Diego looked terrible—he had lost weight, his suit hung loosely on his shoulders, and a heavy black electronic tracking monitor was visibly strapped around his right ankle beneath his trousers.
On our side sat Brenda, myself, and a court stenographer whose fingers hovered over the keys of her machine.
This was a court-ordered civil deposition regarding the preliminary injunction for property separation and financial freeze.
"Let the record reflect," Brenda spoke clearly into the microphone, "that we are conducting the deposition of defendant Diego Vance regarding marital asset division and civil assault damages."
Richard Sterling leaned forward, tapping his pen aggressively on his notepad. "Before we begin, I want to state for the record that my client denies all allegations of intentional assault, as well as the baseless financial claims raised by plaintiff’s counsel. We are prepared to offer a full and final cash settlement of two hundred thousand dollars to Mrs. Vance today, provided she signs a total release of all criminal and civil liability and agrees to a immediate uncontested divorce."
Diego looked up at me from across the table, his eyes filled with a arrogant belief that two hundred thousand dollars would solve everything.
"Two hundred thousand dollars?" I asked quietly, looking directly at Diego.
"It’s more than fair, Valerie," Diego spoke up, ignoring his lawyer’s frantic hand gesture to remain silent. "You keep your little condo, you get two hundred grand in cash, and we both walk away. My family has had enough of this drama. You’ve made your point."
I slowly leaned back in my chair, looking at Diego as if he were a complete stranger.
"Diego," I said softly. "Did you really think this was about two hundred thousand dollars?"
Brenda opened her briefcase and pulled out a thick red binder—the certified forensic report from Pendelton, along with the subpoenaed banking records from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation.
"Mr. Sterling," Brenda said, sliding a copy across the table. "We are declining your settlement offer. And we are adding three additional causes of action to our civil complaint today."
Sterling frowned, opening the binder. "What is this?"
"That," Brenda explained smoothly, "is the complete financial record showing that your client, Diego Vance, stole one hundred and twelve thousand dollars from my client's salary over thirty months and funneled it into Victoria Vance's private accounts. It also contains the forensic digital signature audit proving your client forged Valerie Miller’s signature on a sixty-thousand-dollar property loan application."
Arthur Vance’s head snapped toward his son, his face turning an alarmed, sickly grey. "Diego... what is she talking about?"
Diego’s eyes widened in sheer terror. He stammered frantically, looking at his defense attorney. "I... I was going to pay it back! Dad, the crypto investments I made with Spencer went down! I needed liquidity to cover the margin calls! I was going to put the money back before she noticed!"
"You fool!" Arthur suddenly roared, slamming his hand down on the mahogany table so hard that glass water cups rattled. "You forged a loan document using her property?!"
"Quiet! Everyone keep quiet!" Richard Sterling panicked, realizing every single word spoken in the room was being officially recorded by the court stenographer.
"It’s too late, Mr. Sterling," Brenda said, her voice ringing out like a death knell. "Five minutes ago, Special Agent Marcus Thorne from the Financial Crimes Unit executed a search warrant at the Vance Corporation headquarters on 17th Street. They are currently seizing all servers, financial ledgers, and bank records associated with your client and Victoria Vance."
Arthur Vance fell back into his leather chair as if he had been struck by a physical blow. He clutched his chest, his breathing ragged, his eyes staring blankly at the stack of evidence sitting on the table.
Diego pulled frantically at his suit collar, sweat dripping down his pale forehead as he looked at me.
"Valerie... please," Diego whimpered, reaching his hands across the table toward me in a desperate plea. "We’re married! You loved me! You can't do this to my family! It will destroy my father!"
I stood up from the conference table, smoothing the skirt of my dark suit.
"Diego," I said, looking down at him with absolute, unyielding coldness. "You threw a plate at my head because I refused to let your mother take my home. You stole my hard-earned money to cover your pathetic debts. You didn't love me. You loved what you thought you could take from me."
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I turned to Brenda. "We're done here."
As Brenda and I walked out of the glass doors of the skyscraper, the sounds of chaotic screaming and furious arguments broke out behind us inside the conference room, signaling the final, catastrophic collapse of the Vance family empire.
