Part 5: The Deposition in Room 304
Part 5: The Deposition in Room 304
The ink from my signature felt heavy on the legal documents spread across my hospital tray.
Beside my bed, Detective Miller—no relation to Wyatt, though just as solemn—sat with a digital recorder running on the bedside table. Arthur Pendelton had officially renounced his representation of David and was now acting as my legal advisor, handing over bank statements, wire transfers, and forged power-of-attorney forms.
"Mrs. Vance," Detective Miller said gently, adjusting his glasses. "Based on the financial records Mr. Pendelton provided, alongside your sworn statement, we now have evidence that your husband forged your signature to liquidate your mother’s $400,000 inheritance. Combined with the 4K store footage of the assault, the District Attorney is upgrading the charges."
"Upgrading them to what?" I asked, my voice still faint but clear.
"Aggravated domestic assault, felony grand larceny, and attempted murder," Detective Miller replied firmly. "He won't be getting bail."
Before I could process the words, a commotion echoed from the hallway outside my room.
Shouting erupted past the nurse's station—a high-pitched, hysterical voice that I recognized instantly. Seconds later, the door to Room 304 burst open.
"Clara! You ungrateful little snake!"
It was Evelyn Vance—David’s mother.
Dressed in her designer trench coat and dripping in gold jewelry, Evelyn swept into the room, her eyes wide with unbridled fury. Behind her, two hospital security guards tried to intervene, but she shoved past them, pointing an acrylic fingernail directly at my face.
"How dare you!" Evelyn shrieked, her voice echoing off the sterile walls. "How dare you put my son in handcuffs over a ridiculous misunderstanding! He is a respected director! Do you have any idea what this scandal is doing to our family name?!"
Wyatt stepped out from the corner of the room, his massive seven-foot frame completely blocking Evelyn’s path before she could get anywhere near my bed.
"Step back, ma'am," Wyatt said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low rumble.
Evelyn glared up at Wyatt, her jaw tightening. "Get out of my way, you glorified store clerk! This is a private family matter!"
"Evelyn, stop," Pendelton interrupted, stepping forward from beside my bed.
Evelyn froze, her eyes widening as she recognized her family's long-time attorney standing next to me. "Arthur? What on earth are you doing here? Why aren't you at the precinct getting David out?!"
"I’m here representing Clara, Evelyn," Pendelton said coldly. "And if you take one more step toward her, I will personally file a restraining order against you on her behalf."
"Representing her?!" Evelyn gasped, clutching her pearls. "She’s a nobody! She came into our family with nothing! David gave her a roof over her head, and now she’s trying to ruin his life because she fell over a blanket?!"
"I didn't fall, Evelyn," I said, my voice cutting through her frantic shouting.
I leaned forward, ignoring the sharp tug of the C-section stitches across my abdomen. I looked my mother-in-law straight in the eyes—the woman who had belittled me at every holiday, who had told me I wasn't good enough for her son, and who had turned a blind eye to his cruel temper for years.
"David slammed me into a metal counter because I tried to spend fourteen dollars on your grandson," I said, every word steady and dripping with quiet steel. "He stole four hundred thousand dollars of my mother's money to pay off his gambling debts and blackmails. And right now, he is sitting in a cold cell where he belongs."
Evelyn’s face drained of color. "You... you're lying! David wouldn't—"
"David did," Detective Miller interjected, holding up his badge. "Mrs. Vance, you are currently obstructing an active police investigation. Leave this room immediately, or I will have you arrested for trespassing and harassment."
Evelyn looked around the room—at the police detective, the attorney who had turned against her, the giant store manager standing guard, and finally at me, sitting in that hospital bed, no longer afraid.
Without another word, her arrogant posture crumbled. She turned on her heel and hurried out into the corridor, her high heels clicking loudly against the tile floor.
When the door clicked shut, Wyatt turned to me with a faint, proud nod.
May you like
"You did good, Clara," he said softly.
"I have to see my son," I whispered, the adrenaline slowly washing out of my system, replaced by a deep, aching motherly need. "Take me to the NICU."
