Chapter 32 - The Deposition
The deposition was held on the forty-second floor of Eleanor Vance’s Midtown firm. The conference room was vast, glass-encased, and brutally professional.
When Julian Montgomery walked through the heavy double doors, I had to suppress a quiet intake of breath.
Time had not been kind to him. The razor-sharp jawline and arrogant smirk that had once dominated Upper East Side cocktail parties were gone, replaced by a sallow, puffy complexion, thinning gray hair, and nervous, darting eyes. He wore an off-the-rack navy suit that hung loosely on his shoulders, clearly purchased for the occasion.
Walking behind him was Jonathan Cross, immaculate in a bespoke charcoal pinstripe, and a team of four high-priced litigators carrying identical black briefcases. Cross did not look like a man seeking justice; he looked like a wolf who had spotted a vulnerability in the fence.
Julian sat directly across from me. He tried to lock eyes with me, attempting to muster that old, condescending glare that used to make me question my own worth.
I looked back at him without a single drop of fear, my gaze as steady and cold as surgical steel. Beside me, Marcus sat with his arms crossed, projecting an effortless, immovable strength that made Julian fidget uncomfortably with his plastic pen.
"Let the record reflect," the court reporter droned, "that we are conducting the preliminary oral deposition in the matter of *Montgomery v. New York Medical Research Foundation and Dr. Sarah Lin-Montgomery*."
Cross’s lead attorney, a razor-tongued litigator named Thorne, leaned forward. "Dr. Lin, we are prepared to establish that during the calendar years 2008 through 2011, while cohabitating with the petitioner, Mr. Montgomery, you utilized household marital accounts to finance the initial biological synthesis testing that led to the US Patent series known as the Nova-Pediatric Protocol."
"Mr. Thorne," I replied, my voice calm, melodic, and perfectly audible. "Between 2008 and 2011, the only deposits made into that household account came from my paychecks from New York General Hospital and a private research grant awarded to me under my maiden name."
Julian leaned forward, his face flushing crimson. "That's a lie! My father gave us an allowance! My name was on the checking account!"
"Quiet, Julian," Thorne snapped under his breath.
"No, let him speak," I said, leaning forward slightly, not breaking eye contact with my ex-husband. "Tell them, Julian. Tell them how much your father gave us. Remind them of the nine thousand eight hundred dollar monthly rent on that penthouse—the rent your mother swore you were paying, while you spent every dime of your inheritance on offshore crypto funds and private club memberships until the landlord handed me an eviction notice."
"Sarah, you have no right to—"
"I paid that rent," I said, each word landing like an anvil. "I bought the beds you slept on. I bought the dishes you threw against the wall when you were drunk. And when your mother kicked me out to give my home to your pregnant cousin, you stood in the hallway and told me I was nothing without your family."
"Counsel, control your client!" Cross intervened, his voice icy.
May you like
"My client is answering your allegations," Eleanor countered sharply. "And we have thirty-six consecutive months of verified bank statements, forensic audit records, and federal tax filings demonstrating that Julian Montgomery withdrew over two hundred and forty thousand dollars from Sarah’s personal earnings during that marriage—money he never repaid."
Julian slumped back in his chair, looking suddenly very small, very frail, and utterly exposed.
