Chapter 8 - The Deposition Room
The conference room was cold and smelled of stale coffee.
I sat next to Sarah.
Across the heavy wooden table sat Evan, Margaret, and their high-priced attorney.
Margaret wore a tailored suit.
She looked composed, but the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her.
Evan wouldn't even look at me.
The court reporter began typing as Sarah started the questioning.
She started with Evan.
“Mr. Hale, what is your daughter’s favorite book?”
Evan blinked. “Uh. Goodnight Moon?”
“Incorrect. It is The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Who is her pediatrician?”
“Dr. Smith?”
“Incorrect. It is Dr. Aris. What size shoe does she wear?”
Evan swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
For an hour, Sarah dismantled him.
She proved he was completely absent from Maisie’s daily life.
Then, she turned to Margaret.
Margaret sat up straighter, ready for battle.
“Mrs. Hale, do you admit to striking my client's child on the night of August 17th?”
“I was disciplining an unruly child,” Margaret said haughtily.
“The mother refuses to teach her manners. Someone had to step in.”
Sarah reached into a thick file folder.
She pulled out the documents Uncle Arthur had sent.
“Is this the same way you disciplined your son, Evan?”
Margaret’s face went pale.
“I don't know what you are talking about.”
Sarah slid an old hospital record across the table.
“This is a record from 1999. A broken collarbone. The notes say you pushed him down the stairs for breaking a vase.”
Evan gasped.
He looked at the paper, his hands trembling.
“Where did you get that?” Margaret hissed, losing her composure.
“Did Arthur give you that? That man is a liar!”
“These are official medical records, Mrs. Hale,” Sarah said calmly.
“We also have witness statements from former housekeepers.”
“You have a documented history of severe physical abuse.”
“And you thought you could file for custody of this child?”
Margaret stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“This is a witch hunt!” she screamed.
“Evan, do something! Tell them I was a good mother!”
But Evan didn't move.
He stared at the old hospital record.
The dam inside him had finally broken.
He looked at his mother, truly seeing her for the first time.
“You pushed me,” he whispered.
“I was seven.”
Margaret glared at him. “You were clumsy! I made you who you are!”
“You made me a coward,” Evan said, his voice cracking.
He turned to his lawyer.
“We are dropping the custody petition.”
“Evan, no!” Margaret shrieked.
May you like
“It’s over, Mom,” Evan cried.
“It’s finally over.”
