Chapter 4 - THE DEPOSITIONS OF DUST7
The deposition room was cold enough to freeze water.
David sat across from me in a crisp navy suit, his hair neatly styled, looking every bit the rising corporate executive. But under the harsh fluorescent lighting, the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him. His attorney, a sleek, aggressive man named Marcus Thorne, sat beside him with a leather folder stretched wide across the table.
"We are on the record," the court reporter announced, her fingers hovering over the stenotype machine. "Deposition of David Vance, in the matter of Vance v. Miller, civil action number 2026-CV-8841."
Mark leaned forward, setting his arms on the table. "Mr. Vance, let’s start with the joint checking account held at Chase Bank, ending in 4092. You opened this account with Ms. Miller in April of 2016, correct?"
"Yes," David said, his voice clipped, cool.
"And for ten years, Ms. Miller deposited forty percent of her monthly net income into this account under the verbal agreement that it would fund shared living expenses and home equity improvements?"
"It was a joint pool for our shared life," David replied, shooting me a brief, sharp glare. "We didn't keep strict tally marks on every penny. That’s not how committed relationships work."
"Fascinating," Mark said smoothly, pulling a document from a stack. "Let's turn to Exhibit C. On June 14th, 2023, Ms. Miller deposited $5,000 into the joint account—her annual performance bonus from her employer. On June 15th, 2023, $5,000 was transferred from that joint account into your personal checking account at Wells Fargo. On June 16th, $5,000 was paid to 'Apex Roofing Specialists' for a new roof on 142 Elm Street. Did you report that roof repair as an individual contribution made exclusively by you in your partition sale affidavit?"
David’s lawyer, Thorne, shifted in his chair. "Objection. The characterization of individual contribution is a legal conclusion."
"Answer the question, Mr. Vance," Mark pressed, ignoring Thorne entirely. "Did you list that $5,000 roofing job as your sweat equity expense in court documents submitted under penalty of perjury last Friday?"
David swallowed hard. His throat clicked. "I managed the contractors. I spent hours getting quotes and overseeing the labor. My labor had value."
"Your labor was worth five thousand dollars of her money?" Mark’s voice cracked like a whip. "Let’s look at Exhibit D. September 2024. $12,000 transferred from joint to personal, followed immediately by a wire transfer to a master bathroom contractor. Again, claimed as your personal investment in the partition filing."
David pulled at his collar slightly. "Sarah agreed to all house upgrades."
"Did she agree that you would take sole legal credit for them to strip her of her equity if you broke up?" Mark asked.
"Objection! Argumentative!" Thorne snapped, banging his hand on the table. "Counsel is badgering the witness!"
"I’m establishing a pattern of systematic financial conversion," Mark said calmly to the court reporter before turning back to David. "Mr. Vance, let’s move away from the house. Let's talk about Maine, October of 2023."
David froze. The color visibly drained from his ears.
"Your mother, Elaine Vance, provided you with an antique diamond ring valued at $32,000 in August of 2023, correct?" Mark asked.
"That was a private family matter," David said, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands beneath the table.
"It became a matter of legal record when you cited your relationship status as 'unmarried due to partner hesitation' on your application for a executive housing stipend through Vance Logistics," Mark said, sliding a new paper across the table.
My eyes widened slightly. I hadn't seen that document. Mark had dug deep.
"Vance Logistics offers an executive relocation and housing subsidy for married officers or officers with dependent families," Mark explained, reading from the paper. "In September 2023, you applied for and received a $2,500 monthly corporate stipend by submitting a sworn statement to Human Resources stating that you were 'actively engaged and awaiting a planned 2024 wedding date' with Sarah Miller."
I stared at David. The sheer, breathtaking scope of his duplicity felt like a physical blow.
To his family, he told them I was too timid and anxious to marry him.
To me, he told them marriage was a useless piece of paper that only insecure fools needed.
And to his corporate board, he told them we were engaged so he could collect a thirty-thousand-dollar annual tax-free housing bonus!
"You... you lied to your company?" I spoke up, breaking the rule Mark had set for me to remain silent. I couldn't help it. "You used my name to collect a corporate subsidy?"
"Sarah, quiet," Thorne warned.
"Mr. Vance," Mark interrupted sternly. "Is that your signature on the corporate housing affidavit dated September 12, 2023?"
David stared at the paper. The composure he had maintained for a decade was cracking, hairline fractures spreading across his polished facade. If this deposition was submitted to Vance Logistics’ legal department, he wouldn't just lose his promotion—he would be fired for corporate fraud and ethics violations.
"I... I intended to propose," David stammered, his voice losing its calm veneer. "At the time, I intended to."
"Yet you told your mother in November 2023 that Sarah had refused the proposal," Mark said. "And you kept the $2,500 monthly stipend running for another two years. That amounts to sixty thousand dollars in corporate compensation obtained under false pretenses."
"This deposition is adjourned!" Thorne spat, slamming his folder shut. "We need a private caucus with our client immediately."
"Take all the time you need, Marcus," Mark said, coolly capping his pen. "We have the board of directors meeting scheduled for Tuesday. I’m sure the audit committee at Vance Logistics would love to review Exhibits C through K before they cast their votes on David's senior vice presidency."
Thorne gripped David’s shoulder and practically pulled him out of the room.
When the door clicked shut behind them, the silence in the room was deafening.
I sat back in my chair, staring at the empty seat David had just occupied. I felt no joy. No surge of triumph. Just a hollow, echoing sadness for the ten years I had poured into a shadow.
"You okay?" Mark asked softly, packing his files.
May you like
"I lived with a stranger, Mark," I whispered, looking out the window at the city skyline below. "Ten years. I shared a bed with a man who calculated every single move he made to protect himself and exploit me."
"Some men don't want a partner, Sarah," Mark said gently. "They want an accessory that pays for half its own maintenance. Now, let’s go get your money back."
