Chapter 9 - The Deposition Trap
Two weeks later, the preliminary deposition took place in a high-rise conference room in downtown Columbus.
Diane sat at the end of the long table, wearing a dark navy dress, expensive pearls, and a look of profound smugness. Her lawyer, Richard Vance, sat beside her, puffing his chest.
Ethan and I sat across from them with Sarah Jenkins.
"Let the record reflect," Vance began smoothly, adjusting his silk tie, "that we are here regarding the predatory real estate acquisition of the property located at 1442 Oakridge Drive by Ethan Vance from his vulnerable, elderly mother, Diane."
Sarah Jenkins leaned forward, tapping a thick blue binder. "Mr. Vance, before you waste any more of this court's time, I'd like to present Exhibit A."
Sarah slid a document across the table.
Vance picked it up casually, but as his eyes scanned the pages, his relaxed posture stiffened.
"What is this?" Vance asked, frowning.
"That is the notarized spousal waiver signed by your client, Diane, six years ago," Sarah said coldly. "Including a full financial disclosure form where she explicitly acknowledged that her son, Ethan, was purchasing the residence to save it from bank foreclosure caused by her husband's failed investments."
Diane’s face drained of all color. She reached out and grabbed the paper from Vance’s hands.
"This is a fake!" Diane shrieked, her voice echoing in the glass room. "I never signed this! Ethan forged my signature!"
"Mrs. Vance," Sarah continued smoothly, pulling out another document. "Exhibit B is a certified forensic handwriting analysis conducted by the state's leading document examiner. The signature matches your handwriting on your driver's license, your wedding certificate, and your voter registration card with 99.9% certainty."
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Diane began to tremble. She looked at her lawyer, but Vance was staring at the paperwork, his confident expression evaporating into pure panic.
"Furthermore," Sarah added, leaning back, "we have subpoenaed bank records showing that for sixty-eight consecutive months, your son wired twenty-five hundred dollars into your personal account. In exchange, you signed monthly receipts labeling those funds as 'rent support.' You weren't defrauded, Diane. You were a tenant whose rent was being paid by the very son you assaulted."
