Chapter 7 - The Deposition
The conference room on the tenth floor of Vance & Sterling Legal Counsel was filled with the harsh, afternoon glare of autumn sunlight cutting through vertical blinds.
This time, there was no mahogany table shared in mutual deception. Instead, a court reporter sat behind a small stenograph machine near the corner, her fingers poised over the keyboard like a pianist waiting for the downbeat. Arthur Vance sat to my right, flipping leisurely through a thick binder of financial statements.
Across the table sat Evan, flanked by a public defender—a tired-looking man named Henderson who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
Evan looked hollowed out. His skin had a gray, pasty undertone, his hair was unkempt, and the expensive clothes he used to wear hung loosely on his frame as if he’d lost fifteen pounds in a fortnight.
"Let the record show that the deposition in the matter of Mercer v. Mercer and the corporate fraud investigation is now in session," the court reporter announced in a monotone voice.
Arthur Vance didn't waste any time. He stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and walked slowly toward the head of the table where Evan sat with his hands clenched tightly in his lap.
"Mr. Mercer, let’s direct our attention to the period between October 2021 and September 2026," Arthur began, his voice smooth, piercing, and relentless. "During this five-year period, did you or did you not use corporate funds from Mercer & Sterling Architecture to purchase real property, pay residential utilities, and fund personal expenditures for a secondary household located on Elm Street?"
Evan stared down at the polished wood of the table. He didn't look up. He didn't offer a clever excuse.
"I did," Evan whispered, his voice cracking.
"Speak up, Mr. Mercer. The stenographer needs a verbal response," the court reporter interjected without looking up.
"Yes," Evan said louder, closing his eyes in defeat. "I did."
"And during that same period, did you systematically falsify corporate expense reports, coding personal expenditures as commercial subcontractor fees in order to bypass internal auditing controls?"
"Yes."
"And did you knowingly and intentionally mislead your business partner and legal spouse, Mara Mercer, regarding the allocation of these funds while she was carrying your legitimate children?"
Evan’s jaw trembled. He looked across the table, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second. I didn't look away. I didn't glare, and I didn't smile. I simply stared at him with absolute, unbreakable neutrality—the look one gives a stranger whose business no longer concerns you.
"Yes," Evan choked out, a single tear escaping his eye and splashing onto the table. "I did."
Attorney Henderson, the public defender, leaned over and whispered something in Evan’s ear, but Evan shook his head, brushing him off.
"Mr. Mercer understands the gravity of the civil and criminal liabilities," Henderson said, addressing Arthur Vance formally. "My client is prepared to enter a comprehensive plea agreement regarding the corporate embezzlement charges, and he will not contest the full forfeiture of his corporate shares, personal equity, and assets to Mrs. Mercer in exchange for the prosecution agreeing to recommend a suspended sentence and probation rather than incarcerated time."
Arthur turned to look at me, raising a single eyebrow in silent consultation.
I gave a slow, deliberate nod. I didn't want him in prison; prison was a public spectacle, a lingering drama that would keep our names tangled together in local headlines for years. I wanted him gone. I wanted a clean legal break, absolute custody, and total financial independence so my children and I could move forward without looking over our shoulders.
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"The terms are acceptable," Arthur announced, turning back to the stenographer. "Draft the final stipulations. We conclude the deposition here."
Evan didn't move as the attorneys began packing up their briefcases. He sat frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space between us, realizing too late that the empire he thought he was building had turned to ash in his hands.
