Chapter 7 - THE DEPOSITIONS
Z
With Julian back in high-security custody facing fresh attempted murder and burglary charges, any remaining defense strategy collapsed. Donald Croft, terrified of facing a federal judge alone, signed a comprehensive state plea agreement, handing over encrypted hard drives detailing a decade’s worth of financial scams masterminded by Victoria Vance.
Three weeks later, the civil and criminal depositions reached their final, decisive phase.
We gathered in the federal courthouse downtown. Eleanor sat to my left, while the lead prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Sarah Lin, sat to my right. Across the table sat Victoria, flanked by a newly court-appointed public defender after Vance-Smyth officially withdrew from the case to avoid professional disbarment.
Victoria looked defeated. Her arrogant posture was gone, replaced by a frail, trembling demeanor that fooled absolutely no one in the room.
“State your name for the record,” ADA Lin instructed, clicking a recording device on the center of the table.
“Victoria Marie Vance,” she muttered softly.
“Mrs. Vance,” ADA Lin began, flipping through a thick binder of financial evidence. “We have reviewed the forensic records provided by Donald Croft and First National Bank. Between June 2021 and November 2023, you systematically diverted $450,000 from the Arthur Sterling private accounts into shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands under your maiden name. Do you contest these findings?”
Victoria stared at the table, her hands trembling in her lap. “Arthur promised me that money,” she whispered bitterly. “I spent years serving his company...”
“You were an employee who was terminated for theft in 1999,” Eleanor corrected harshly. “Arthur Sterling owed you nothing. You manipulated your son into marrying Nora Sterling with the explicit intent of locating trust assets and securing physical access to the estate.”
Victoria lifted her head, her dark eyes flashing with a sudden, vicious fire as she glared at Eleanor. “Julian loved her! He was a good husband to her until she refused to help him! She had millions sitting in that trust while my son’s business was collapsing! She was selfish!”
“Your son’s business collapsed because he funneled $200,000 of his restaurant capital into your personal credit card accounts!” ADA Lin cut in, pulling out a set of bank statements. “Julian didn't fail on his own, Mrs. Vance. You bled his company dry just like you bled your first husband dry.”
Victoria gasped, pulling back as if struck.
“And then we come to October 14th,” ADA Lin continued, leaning forward. “When Nora caught you stealing the original trust records from the basement desk, you assaulted her, causing severe bodily harm. You then instructed your son to withhold medical treatment while you attempted to destroy evidence. Is that correct?”
Victoria’s public defender leaned over, whispering frantically in her ear: “Don't answer that. Take the fifth.”
Victoria pushed her attorney’s hand away. Her facade of innocence shattered completely, revealing the cold, unrepentant narcissist underneath.
“She was going to call the police!” Victoria spat, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at me. “She was going to ruin everything I had worked three years to build! If she had just signed the deed over like a dutiful wife, none of this would have happened! She brought this on herself!”
ADA Lin smiled—a slow, lethal expression of absolute victory.
“Thank you, Mrs. Vance,” Lin said, shutting her binder with a loud clap. “Your statement has been recorded. The state offers no further plea negotiations. We will see you at trial.”
Victoria realized her mistake a second too late. She turned frantically to her defender. “What does that mean? What did she mean?”
“It means,” Eleanor said, leaning across the table with ice in her voice, “that you just guaranteed yourself a minimum thirty-year sentence in a maximum-security state facility without the possibility of parole. Enjoy your fresh start, Victoria.”
May you like
As the guards escorted Victoria away, her frantic screaming echoed down the cold marble hallways of the courthouse.
I took a deep, clear breath. For the first time in months, the weight on my chest lifted completely. The truth was fully documented, locked into public record, and impossible to rewrite.
