Chapter 24 - The Deposition Table
The conference room on the seventeenth floor of the county courthouse smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and impending disaster.
Arthur Kaufman sat at the end of the long mahogany table, flanked by Harold and Evelyn. Harold wore his best Sunday suit, though the collar was frayed and hung loose around his shrunken neck. Evelyn sat rigidly, her spine straight, clutching a faux-leather handbag on her lap, glaring across the table at me with a hatred that could have stripped paint from the walls.
Nathan sat to my right, calm and unbothered, while our custody counsel, Sarah Jenkins, sat to my left with two thick, color-coded trial binders open before her.
Brooke sat at the far end, refusing to look at Evelyn.
"Let’s be sensible here, Counsel," Kaufman began, leaning back and resting his interlaced fingers on his stomach. "My clients are grieving grandparents. They have a statutory right under Ohio Revised Code Section 3109.11 to maintain a meaningful relationship with their grandchildren. What we have here is a classic case of familial retaliation. Miss Vance has harbored deep-seated resentment toward her brother for years, and now that he is incarcerated, she is using these innocent children to punish the entire Vance line."
"Is that your legal theory, Arthur?" Sarah Jenkins asked, not even looking up from her legal pad. "Because we have a slightly different perspective."
"Save your theatrics, Sarah," Kaufman sneered. "My clients have filed for immediate temporary visitation. Unless you want this dragged through a full-blown evidentiary hearing where Miss Vance’s personal life and psychiatric fitness are dissected in open court, I suggest you agree to alternating weekends."
Nathan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The sharp edge of his smile was like a scalpel.
"Mr. Kaufman," Nathan said, his voice quiet, clear, and lethal. "Before you advise your clients to swear to the veracity of this petition under penalty of perjury, I’d like to introduce three exhibits for the preliminary record."
Kaufman frowned, his eyebrows twitching. "What exhibits? This is an informal pre-hearing conference."
"Exhibit A," Nathan said, sliding a sleek flash drive across the polished wood, "is an authenticated digital audio recording made on Monday, March 18th, at 6:42 PM in the vestibule of 1442 Elmwood Avenue. On this recording, Mrs. Evelyn Vance offers Brooke Vance forty thousand dollars—in cash—to execute a fraudulent affidavit alleging coercion against Claire Vance."
Evelyn’s face drained of every ounce of color. Her knuckles turned dead white around her purse strap.
"That’s... that’s an illegal wiretap!" Evelyn shrieked, half-rising from her chair. "She tricked me! She led me on!"
"Ohio is a one-party consent state, Mrs. Vance," Sarah Jenkins said smoothly. "Sit down."
Harold turned his head slowly, looking at his wife with wide, terrified eyes. "Evelyn... what did you do? You told me Brooke agreed to this!"
"Be quiet, Harold!" she snapped, her voice shrill and cracked.
"Exhibit B," Nathan continued, sliding a thick ream of banking documents across the table directly in front of Kaufman, "is the financial trace on the wire transfer used to pay your fifty-thousand-dollar retainer, Mr. Kaufman. The funds originated from Apex Horizon Holdings, a Delaware shell entity established by Ryan Vance using embezzled payroll funds from Buckeye Freight LLC. Those funds are subject to an active federal forfeiture warrant issued three days ago by the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Ohio."
Kaufman’s smug composure instantly shattered. He snatched the document, his eyes darting frantically down the account numbers and routing stamps.
"Federal forfeiture?" Kaufman whispered.
"If you don't surrender that retainer back to the federal clerk of courts within forty-eight hours," Nathan added, leaning in just an inch closer, "the United States Attorney’s office will add Kaufman, Sterling & Associates to the active money laundering inquiry as an unindicted co-conspirator. You took dirty money to fund a fraudulent custody strike."
Kaufman shoved his chair back, his face crimson. He turned to Evelyn, his voice dropping into a furious hiss. "You told me the funds were from a private family trust. You swore this was clean liquid capital."
"It is our family's money!" Evelyn screamed, her mask completely fracturing. She slammed her hand down on the mahogany table, glaring at me. "Ryan worked for that money! He made millions while Claire sat in her pathetic little cube! That money belongs to his children! It belongs to us! You ungrateful little bitch—you stole his life, you stole his house, and now you want to steal his name!"
The entire conference room was silent.
The court reporter’s fingers hovered over the machine, recording every word.
I didn't flinch. I didn't look away. I looked Evelyn Vance directly in her sunken, wild eyes, and for the first time in thirty-two years, I felt neither guilt nor obligation.
"I didn't steal anything, Mother," I said, my voice as steady as granite. "Ryan gave it all away the second he treated human beings like commodities. And you gave it away the day you decided his pride was worth more than your grandchildren's safety."
Sarah Jenkins closed her binder with a sharp, resounding *thwack*.
"We are moving for immediate dismissal with prejudice, Mr. Kaufman," Sarah said. "We are also filing for permanent civil protection orders barring Harold and Evelyn Vance from approaching Claire Vance, Brooke Vance, Noah Vance, or Ella Vance within one thousand feet for a period of ten years. And we are filing for full attorney fee shifting. If you fight this, Arthur, your firm will be paying every single cent of our hourly rate."
Kaufman didn't even look at his clients. He gathered his leather folder, stood up, and looked at Sarah Jenkins.
"We will enter a voluntary withdrawal of the petition by four o’clock today," Kaufman said curtly. He turned on his heel and strode out of the conference room, the heavy double doors swinging shut behind him.
May you like
Harold buried his face in his trembling hands, weeping silently into his palms. Evelyn sat alone, surrounded by the ruin of the empire she had spent forty years building on lies.
***
