Chapter 5 - The Deposition
The conference room at Caldwell & Associates was designed to intimidate.
Long mahogany tables, floor-to-ceiling windows, and freezing air conditioning.
I sat calmly beside Victoria, sipping a cup of herbal tea.
When the double doors opened, Arthur walked in, followed by a cheap, sweaty lawyer he had likely hired on contingency.
Arthur looked terrible.
His usually immaculate hair was disheveled.
His suit was wrinkled, as if he had slept in it.
When his eyes landed on me, he flinched.
His gaze dropped immediately to the thick white bandage covering my neck.
For a fraction of a second, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
"Let's get this over with," Arthur's lawyer grumbled, dropping his briefcase on the table. "My client is willing to offer an amicable split of marital assets. Fifty-fifty on the joint accounts, and he keeps his car."
Victoria didn't even look at the opposing counsel.
She opened her first folder.
"There are no marital assets to split," she said coldly.
"Excuse me?" his lawyer sputtered.
"The joint accounts have been seized by federal investigators due to your client's fraudulent activity," Victoria explained, sliding a document across the table. "Arthur Sterling has forged my client's signature on exactly thirty-two loan applications."
Arthur swallowed hard. "That's a lie. Clara knew about those loans. It was family money!"
"Family money?" I spoke for the first time.
My voice was quiet, steady, and devoid of any emotion.
"You stole four hundred thousand dollars, Arthur. You funneled it to your sister so she could pretend to be a successful entrepreneur."
"I was investing in our future!" Arthur yelled, slamming his hand on the table.
"Sit down," Victoria snapped. "Or I will have the bailiff remove you. We are not here to negotiate a divorce settlement. We are here to inform you of the civil suits being filed against you."
Victoria opened the second folder and pulled out a stack of glossy photographs.
She spread them across the mahogany table.
They were the photos from the hospital.
Close-up images of my blistered, peeling skin. The raw, red agony that he had inflicted over a piece of plastic.
Arthur stared at the photos, his breathing turning ragged.
"I... I didn't mean to..." he stammered.
"This is second-degree assault," Victoria stated, her voice like ice. "The police have already issued a warrant for your arrest. It will be executed the moment you leave this building."
Arthur’s lawyer slowly stood up, looking at the forged documents, then at the photos of my burned flesh.
He closed his briefcase.
"I am withdrawing as counsel," the lawyer said quietly.
"You can't do that!" Arthur panicked, grabbing the man's sleeve. "You have to defend me!"
"I don't defend men who throw boiling water at women, and I don't touch federal fraud cases," the lawyer spat, yanking his arm away.
He walked out of the room without looking back.
Arthur was completely alone.
He looked at me, his eyes filling with desperate tears.
"Clara... please. I'm your husband. We can fix this."
I stood up slowly, smoothing the wrinkles from my white suit.
I looked down at the pathetic man cowering in his chair.
May you like
"I was your wife," I said softly. "Now? I'm just the woman who owns the cage you're going to die in."
I turned and walked out of the room, leaving him to face the police officers waiting in the lobby.
