Chapter 5 - The First Crack
The legal deposition was held at a neutral law firm in downtown Boston. The room was long, cold, and dominated by a large conference table equipped with multiple recording devices.
Charles Mercer sat across from them, flanked by three high-priced corporate litigators. He looked calm, his aristocratic features cast in a smug, patronizing smile. Lydia was notably absent, stayed at home by the pending criminal assault charges, but her malice was palpable through her husband.
Michael and Eleanor sat side by side, Arthur Vance positioned next to them.
"Mr. Anders, Mrs. Anders," the lead Mercer attorney, a sharp-faced man named Harrison, began, turning on the recorder. "Let’s review the timeline of your alleged romance. You claim you met in June of last year at a charitable event in Newport. Yet, our records show that Eleanor Hayes was working a twelve-hour shift at the Mercer estate that exact evening. Can you explain this discrepancy?"
Michael didn't blink. "It’s very simple. The event ended at ten o'clock. Eleanor was released from her duties at ten-thirty. We met at a 24-hour diner three blocks away from the estate where she had gone to pick up a tea order for your wife, Charles. I noticed her exhaustion. We began to talk. It wasn't a grand gala meeting; it was an ordinary human connection. Something your family clearly fails to comprehend."
Harrison narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze to Eleanor. "Mrs. Anders, if you were involved with a billionaire for a year, why did you continue to live in a cramped room beside the laundry area? Why did you allow your children to suffer nutritional deficiencies? Why didn't you ask your extraordinarily wealthy boyfriend for a single dollar?"
Eleanor felt her palms sweat. She remembered the script she and Michael had practiced, but seeing Charles Mercer’s cold eyes staring at her made her throat tighten.
"Because I have pride," Eleanor said, her voice shaking slightly before she found her footing. "Michael offered to help me many times. But I knew what Lydia would do if I suddenly had money. She would have accused me of stealing from the house, or she would have realized I was planning to leave and taken my girls. I chose to endure the hardship until we were legally protected by marriage. I hid my relationship to protect my daughters."
Charles Mercer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "A touching story, Eleanor. Truly. But marriage requires a certificate. We’ve checked the Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Connecticut vital statistics registries. There is no record of a marriage between Michael Anders and Eleanor Hayes."
Arthur Vance smiled smoothly, sliding a certified document across the table. "That’s because they weren't married in the tri-state area, Harrison. They were married in a small municipality in northern Vermont, under a confidential marriage statute that allows couples facing high security risks to seal their public filings. Here is the certified court copy, stamped by the state magistrate."
Harrison picked up the document, reviewing it meticulously. It was flawless. Michael’s money and Arthur’s legal connections had secured a perfectly legal, backdated confidential filing through a sympathetic judge who owed Michael his career.
Charles Mercer’s smile finally faltered. He looked at Michael, his eyes burning with venom. "You think you’ve won, Michael. You think your billions can buy a family. But a marriage requires more than a piece of paper. It requires a life lived together. We’ve hired private investigators. They’ve been watching your estate with thermal imaging and long-range directional mics."
Michael’s posture turned instantly lethal. "You’re admitting to illegal surveillance of my private residence?"
"I’m admitting to protecting my family's interests," Charles sneered. "Our investigators noted that you spend every single night locked in your private study, Michael. Your 'wife' sleeps alone in the master bedroom. You don't share a bed. You don't share a life. The servants report absolute formality between you. It’s a sham. You built a beautiful lie to steal our guardianship, and we are going to expose it in a federal court next week."
Eleanor felt the room spin. The lie was cracking. The thermal imaging had caught Michael’s nightly retreats to the study.
Before Arthur could object, Eleanor did something completely unexpected. She reached over, took Michael’s face in her hands, and turned him toward her. In front of the cameras, in front of Charles Mercer and the lawyers, she pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't a staged, formal kiss. It was filled with a desperate, electric intensity. Michael froze for a fraction of a second, his entire body going rigid with shock, before his instincts took over. His large hand came up, wrapping gently around the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
When they finally broke apart, Eleanor turned to Charles Mercer, her eyes flashing with brilliant fire.
"Michael spends his nights in the study because he is working on a high-level government cybersecurity contract that requires a secure terminal, you miserable old man," she lied, her voice dripping with scorn. "We share a life, and we share a bed when his work is done. If your peeping Toms want to watch us closer, tell them to look through the master windows tonight. We have nothing to hide."
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Charles Mercer stared at her, utterly silenced by her ferocity.
Michael looked at Eleanor, his thumb still resting against the warm skin of her neck. For the first time in his life, the virgin billionaire wasn't thinking about his vow, his father, or his empire. He was thinking about the taste of her lips, and the terrifying realization that the lie they were telling was beginning to feel entirely like the truth.
