Chapter 7 - The Depositions
Ten days later, the high-stakes battle shifted from the court of public opinion to the sterile environment of a deposition room at the Maricopa County Courthouse.
The room was cold, dominated by a long conference table equipped with microphones and a court reporter sitting at a small stenography machine in the corner.
On one side sat Bennett, flanked by three high-priced corporate defense attorneys in dark suits. Across from them sat Eleanor Vance, Uncle Richard, and me.
Bennett looked exhausted. The polished, flawless billionaire from two weeks ago was gone. His suit was slightly rumpled, dark shadows hung under his eyes, and he had lost weight. The temporary receiver appointed by the court had officially taken control of the Finch Group's main accounts, halting construction on all three of his major commercial sites.
"We are on the record," Eleanor announced, turning her laptop toward the center of the table. "This is the deposition of Bennett Finch in the matter of Halloway v. Finch, Case Number 2026-CV-08912."
Bennett’s lead attorney, a man named Henderson, leaned toward his microphone. "Before we begin, I want to state for the record that my client is willing to offer an immediate, comprehensive settlement. Mr. Finch is prepared to grant Mrs. Halloway fifty percent of the marital residence and a lump-sum payment of five million dollars in exchange for a complete dismissal of all trust claims and the withdrawal of the ground lease default notice."
Eleanor didn't even look at the proposal sheet Henderson slid across the table.
"Rejected," Eleanor said flatly.
"Five million dollars is an extraordinary settlement for a three-year marriage, Mrs. Vance!" Henderson snapped.
"My client is not interested in your client's leftover pocket change, Mr. Henderson," Eleanor replied coolly. "We are here to discuss the intentional fraudulent conversion of the Halloway Community Foundation's assets, as well as Mr. Finch's direct role in concealing the assault on August 14th."
Eleanor tapped a key on her laptop.
A large monitor mounted on the wall lit up, displaying the crystal-clear 4K video feed from St. Jude’s Medical Center.
The room went quiet as the video played. We watched Margot walk up to me, saw her heel strike my side, watched me fall to the cold floor, spilling coffee across my dress.
And then, we watched Bennett.
On the screen, Bennett stood with his hands in his pockets, watching me struggle on the floor, before turning to Margot and whispering something into her ear.
"Mr. Finch," Eleanor said, her voice piercing the silent room. "Can you tell the court what you said to Miss Vance two seconds after your pregnant wife hit the floor?"
Bennett swallowed hard, staring at the screen. "I... I don't recall."
"Let me refresh your memory," Eleanor said, pressing another key.
An audio waveform appeared on the screen, accompanied by an enhanced audio file captured by the directional microphone overhead.
Bennett's voice echoed through the room: "Don't worry, Margot. The cameras in this wing are on a closed loop. I'll have the security team wipe the server before the end of the day."
Henderson’s head snapped toward Bennett, his face turning pale. "Bennett... did you say that?"
May you like
Bennett sank back into his leather chair, his jaw hanging open, unable to utter a single word.
"That, Mr. Henderson," Eleanor said, folding her hands neatly over her folder, "is evidence of felony obstruction of justice, conspiracy to destroy evidence, and willful endangerment. If this goes to a jury, your client will not only lose every asset he owns—he will be wearing an orange jumpsuit before the baby is born."
