Chapter 3 - The Deposition of LiesThree weeks later.
The high-rise conference room on the forty-second floor of the Dirksen Federal Building overlooked the gray, freezing expanse of Lake Michigan. Outside, a winter blizzard was blowing through the city, coating the glass windows in sheets of ice.
Inside, the atmosphere was even colder.
I sat at the end of a long mahogany table, wearing a crisp navy-blue tailored suit. My hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and my hands rested calmly on a leather folder. Beside me sat Eleanor Vance and a team of three senior federal prosecutors.
Across the table sat Ethan Cole.
In three short weeks, the man who used to spend thousands of dollars on custom suits looked like a shadow of his former self. His hair was untrimmed, dark circles sagged under his bloodshot eyes, and his suit hung loosely on his diminished frame. Beside him sat a court-appointed public defender—his high-priced private defense team had withdrawn the moment his retainer accounts were frozen by the court.
Across from him sat Bianca Montgomery, flanked by two armed prison guards. She was dressed in an orange Department of Corrections jumpsuit, her hands handcuffed to a belly chain. The polished, glamorous heiress was gone; her skin was sallow, her roots were growing out, and her eyes burned with pure, unadulterated venom whenever she looked at Ethan.
“This deposition is being recorded for the United States District Court,” the court reporter announced, tapping her machine. “Case Number 2026-CR-8841. United States v. Ethan Cole and Bianca Montgomery.”
The lead prosecutor, a formidable woman named Sarah Jenkins, turned her attention to Ethan.
“Mr. Cole,” Jenkins began, her voice crisp and uncompromising. “We are here today to review the financial disclosures of Cole Enterprises from 2021 through 2025. Do you recognize these documents?”
Jenkins slid a four-hundred-page binder across the polished table.
Ethan stared at the binder as if it were a venomous snake. “I... I left the financial accounting to my back-office staff. I am a big-picture strategist. I don't handle daily line items.”
I let out a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle.
Ethan’s eyes snapped to mine, anger flaring in his hollow cheeks. “What’s so funny, Claire?”
“What’s funny, Ethan,” I said, leaning forward and resting my chin on my laced fingers, “is that you spent five years telling investors that you were a mathematical prodigy who personally designed the proprietary risk algorithms for Cole Enterprises. You even took credit for the Apex algorithm in a Forbes interview two years ago.”
“I led the company!” Ethan shouted, slamming a fist onto the table. His public defender quickly grabbed his forearm, whispering a stern warning.
“You led nothing,” I replied coldly. “I wrote every single line of code for the Apex system between 2020 and 2022. I registered the copyright under my maiden name, Claire Bennett, six months before we were married. And when you forged my signature on the marital separation agreement, you unwittingly transferred those intellectual property rights back to my private holding firm.”
Ethan went completely still. He looked at his public defender, whose face was pale and helpless.
“What does that mean?” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling.
“It means,” Eleanor Vance spoke up, pulling a legal decree from her briefcase, “that every single dollar Cole Enterprises generated using the Apex software over the last three years was an infringement of federal copyright law. We have filed a civil judgment for one hundred and forty million dollars in back royalties.”
“140 million...?!” Ethan gasped, clutching his chest as if he couldn't breathe. “I don't have that kind of money! The company is bankrupt!”
“We know,” Eleanor smiled ruthlessly. “Which is why the federal court has ordered the immediate liquidation of all your personal assets—including your penthouse, your car collection, your watch collection, and your equity stakes in all subsidiary ventures.”
“Ethan, you pathetic idiot!” Bianca suddenly screamed, straining against her belly chain as the prison guards held her back. “You told me you were worth half a billion! You told me she was nothing! You dragged me into this! You told me to get her to sign that NDA!”
“Silence in the room!” Prosecutor Jenkins ordered sternly.
“No!” Bianca shrieked, tears of rage smearing her face. “He told me she was stalling the divorce to steal his money! He told me if I made her scared enough, she’d sign whatever we put in front of her! It was his idea!”
Ethan spun toward Bianca, horror written across his face. “Bianca, shut up! What are you doing?!”
“I’m cutting a plea deal, you miserable fraud!” Bianca spat back, looking at the prosecutor. “I’ll testify against him! I’ll tell the grand jury everything! He knew about the offshore accounts in Grand Cayman! He personally authorized the transfers to pay off the building inspectors!”
The prosecutors scribbled furiously on their pads, exchange victorious glances.
I sat back in my chair, watching the two wolves who had tried to destroy my life turn around and tear each other to pieces.
Ethan looked at me, his eyes wide, pleading, filled with a desperate, pathetic panic. “Claire... please. Look at me. We were married for five years! We built a life together! You can’t let them do this to me! Think about Noah! What kind of future will he have if his father is in federal prison?!”
I stood up slowly from the table. I buttoned my navy suit jacket, smoothing the fabric over my stomach.
“Noah’s future is bright, Ethan,” I said, looking down at him with absolute, unyielding coldness. “He has a mother who loves him, a secure trust fund built on honest work, and a name that will never be associated with fraud or cowardice.”
I leaned down, resting both hands on the table, looking straight into his broken eyes.
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“You didn't just betray a wife, Ethan,” I whispered. “You betrayed the only person who ever kept you safe from yourself. Enjoy prison.”
I turned on my heel and walked out of the conference room, the sound of Ethan weeping and Bianca screaming behind me fading into the cold, quiet halls of justice.
