Chapter 4 - The Deposition
“What is this?” Mark’s lawyer asked, eyeing the red folder with disdain.
“That,” I said, my voice smooth and icy, “is a detailed audit of Vance Holdings over the past thirty-six months. Specifically, it highlights a series of recurring wire transfers to a shell company called 'Evoke Consulting,' registered in the Cayman Islands.”
Mark went rigidly still. His mother, Eleanor, let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her pearl necklace.
“Evoke Consulting,” I continued, opening the folder and sliding the first page across the table, “is managed by a trust in the name of Eleanor Preston. Your maiden name, Eleanor. Since March of last year, approximately four point two million dollars has been diverted from the corporate payroll into this account, disguised as vendor advances and consulting fees.”
Mark’s lawyer snatched the paper. His eyes scanned the document, and the color rapidly drained from his face. He looked at Mark, his voice dropping an octave. “Mark, what the hell is this?”
“She’s lying!” Mark shouted, though his voice cracked. “She fabricated this! She’s a disgruntled, unstable bitch trying to extort us!”
“Actually,” David interrupted, finally opening his briefcase, “these are certified bank records obtained legally through a subpoena we filed forty-eight hours ago under the suspicion of marital asset dissipation. But it’s much worse than that, isn’t it, Mark? It’s federal wire fraud.”
I turned my gaze to Chloe, Mark's sister, who was shrinking into her chair. “And let’s not forget Chloe’s fifteen-thousand-dollar monthly retainer for 'social media management' for a company that has zero social media presence.”
“Shut up!” Mark slammed his fist on the table. “You have nothing! You’re bluffing!”
“Am I?” I slid a photograph across the table. It was a picture of Mark, taken outside a luxury townhouse downtown, kissing a blonde woman. “I didn't care about the mistress, Mark. I really didn't. But I did care that the townhouse she lives in was purchased using a subsidiary of Vance Holdings, which means you used corporate funds to buy real estate for your girlfriend. A girlfriend, by the way, who was very eager to talk to my private investigator once she realized she was implicated in tax evasion.”
The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning humming through the vents. Eleanor was shaking. Mark was staring at me as if a ghost had just ripped his throat out.
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“Here are my terms,” I said, my voice echoing in the dead silence. “I get full physical and legal custody of Leo. You get zero visitation. You will relinquish all claims to my pre-marital assets, and you will sign over the deed to the marital home. In exchange, I will delay handing this folder over to the FBI and the IRS for exactly twenty-four hours, giving you time to tell your father what you’ve done.”
Mark’s lawyer closed his folder. He looked at Mark with sheer disgust. “I can no longer represent you in this matter,” he said, standing up. “This goes beyond family court. You need a criminal defense attorney.”
