Chapter 4 - The Deposition & The Mask Slips
Two weeks later, the atmosphere in the third-floor conference room at the county courthouse was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Sitting on one side of the long oak table was Amber, wearing a faded cardigan that was clearly picked to make her look impoverished and fragile. Beside her sat Arthur Sterling, a slick man in a cheap pinstripe suit, snapping his leather briefcase shut with aggressive flair.
Across from them sat Cole and Dana.
In the corner of the room, a court reporter adjusted her stenography machine, while a video camera mounted on a tripod recorded every move.
“We are on the record,” Dana announced calmly. “This is the deposition of plaintiff Amber Miller in the matter of Miller v. Miller.”
Sterling leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the table. “Let’s make this short, Ms. Vance. My client is a traumatized single mother. Her brother turned against her over a minor childhood accident at a party. Ninety-two thousand dollars is a modest sum to resolve the emotional distress and economic displacement he has caused her.”
“Mr. Sterling,” Dana interrupted smoothly, “you’ll have your turn to talk when I am finished asking questions.”
Dana turned her gaze toward Amber. “Ms. Miller, under oath, please state your current place of residence.”
Amber sneered slightly, crossing her arms. “142 Elm Street. The house my brother is trying to throw me out of.”
“And who owns 142 Elm Street?”
“Cole owns it. But he gave it to me! He handed me the keys four years ago and said it was my home!”
“Did he transfer the deed to your name?” Dana asked.
“No, but—”
“Did you ever sign a lease agreement paying rent?”
“Family doesn't charge family rent!” Amber snapped, her voice rising in pitch. “He promised I could stay there!”
“I see,” Dana said, pulling a blue folder from her stack. “So you admit you paid zero dollars in rent over thirty-six months. Now, let’s talk about the commercial daycare permit you filed with the city zoning board three months ago.”
Amber stiffened. Her eyes darted nervously toward her attorney.
“In this application,” Dana continued, reading from a certified document, “you listed yourself as the 'Sole Property Manager and Authorized Representative of 142 Elm Street LLC.' Did Cole Miller give you written authorization to act as property manager?”
“I was trying to build a business!” Amber yelled defensively. “I was trying to provide for my son! He knew I wanted to open a daycare!”
“Answer the question, Ms. Miller. Did he give you written authorization?”
“...No,” Amber muttered.
“And did you collect cash deposits from four local families totaling eight thousand dollars for enrollment in this unlicensed daycare, which you deposited into your personal checking account last month?”
Sterling jumped out of his chair. “Objection! Relevance!”
“It is entirely relevant to her claims of financial hardship and economic interference, Mr. Sterling,” Dana shot back without blinking. “We subpoenaed her bank records. She has over forty thousand dollars sitting in a liquid savings account, collected from under-the-table daycare deposits and undeclared cash jobs, while my client paid her property taxes, water bills, and roof repairs.”
Amber’s face turned bright purple. The meek, struggling mother persona evaporated in a single second.
“He owes me!” Amber shrieked, slamming her hand onto the wooden conference table. “He has millions in real estate! He’s my brother! He’s supposed to take care of me! He ruined my life over a stupid fucking birthday cake!”
“Ms. Miller, control yourself,” Sterling warned, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he realized his client had just destroyed her own case on camera.
“No! I won't control myself!” Amber screamed, pointing a shaking finger directly at Cole. “You think you’re so high and mighty, Cole? You think you’re better than me just because you have a fancy office and a cute little son? Max is a spoiled brat! Hunter smashed that cake because he deserved it! You both deserve to lose everything!”
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Cole sat perfectly still. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't flinch.
He simply leaned forward, looked his sister dead in the eyes, and said softly, “Thank you, Amber. That’s all the video evidence the judge will ever need to see.”
