Chapter 5 - The Deposition of LiesZ
Three weeks later, I sat at the head of a long mahogany conference table on the fourteenth floor of the county legal building. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp reflections across the polished surface. Across from me sat Amber, dressed in a muted grey suit that looked far too big for her. The bright, bubbly sister who had spent years manipulating everyone around her looked gaunt, her skin pale and her eyes ringed with dark circles.
Beside her sat her court-appointed criminal defense attorney. Her husband, Marcus, was nowhere to be seen—his divorce attorney had filed papers the week prior, stripping Amber of her access to their marital assets.
This was the formal deposition for the state’s felony fraud case against my father, and Amber was required to give her official statement under oath.
"State your full name for the record," the prosecutor, a sharp-eyed woman named Assistant District Attorney Vance, instructed.
"Amber Rose Lane," my sister whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Speak up, please," ADA Vance said coldly. "Ms. Lane, let's go back to November of last year. Who first brought up the idea of acquiring the deed to 412 Elmwood Drive?"
Amber took a trembling breath, her eyes darting briefly to me before flashing away in shame. "My father. Richard."
"And what did he say to you?"
"He... he said that Clara had saved up over two hundred thousand dollars in liquid assets," Amber stammered, pulling a tissue from her purse and clutching it in her lap. "He said it wasn't fair that she was single and buying a house with three bedrooms while Marcus and I were renting a two-bedroom apartment. He said... he said Clara owed the family because he had paid for her upbringing."
I listened, my face an unreadable mask.
"Did your father instruct you to forge Clara's signature on the Family Property Agreement?" ADA Vance pressed.
Amber paused, her hands shaking violently. "He... he brought the paper to me. He had a light table from his drafting desk. He had pulled a copy of Clara’s signature off an old tax document she had left in his office years ago. He showed me how to trace it so it would look authentic."
"And why did you go along with it?"
"Because he promised me!" Amber sobbed, the tears finally flowing in earnest—though this time, there was no audience willing to reward her for them. "He said if we got the deed into my name, we could use the house as collateral for a commercial loan. He was... he was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt from bad investments. He told me if I didn't help him get Clara's home, the bank was going to foreclose on his own house!"
I felt a cold pit form in my stomach.
It hadn't just been about favoritism. It hadn't just been about giving Amber what she wanted. My father had viewed my life’s work—every late shift, every missed meal, every dollar I had painstakingly saved while living in poverty—as his personal bail-out fund. He had intended to leverage my house to pay off his gambling debts and failed business ventures, fully prepared to let me take the financial ruin when the loans defaulted.
"And what about the email to the seller’s agent?" ADA Vance asked, her voice relentless.
"Dad wrote it," Amber confessed, her head hanging low. "He used his laptop. I just... I hit send."
"So you willingly participated in a coordinated effort to defraud your sister of a property valued at over four hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
"I thought she would forgive us!" Amber wailed, looking directly at me for the first time. "Clara, you always forgave us! Whenever Dad took money from your account, you never made a scene! You always just worked harder! I thought... I thought you would just accept it and move on! I didn't know you would do this to us!"
The conference room went dead silent.
The court reporter’s fingers hovered over her machine. ADA Vance looked disgusted. Daniel Ross simply leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly.
I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the mahogany table.
"You didn't think I would do this?" I said, my voice quiet, steady, and utterly terrifying in its calm. "You mean, you didn't think I would defend myself? You thought I was your personal slave, Amber. You thought my life existed solely to cushion your failures."
"Clara, please..." Amber wept. "They're going to give me two years in probation and community service if I testify against Dad. But Dad... Dad is facing six years in state prison. He won't survive it, Clara! Talk to the prosecutor! Tell them you don't want him to go to prison!"
"Your father didn't care if Clara survived when he broke into her home with an iron crowbar," ADA Vance intervened sharply. "This deposition is concluded."
As the lawyers began packing up their files, Amber scrambled out of her chair and rushed toward my side of the table. Daniel instantly stood up, stepping in front of her.
"Stay back, Ms. Lane," Daniel warned.
Amber stopped, clutching her stomach, looking at me with absolute desperation. "What happened to you, Clara? You used to love us! You used to be part of this family!"
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I stood up, pulling my navy trench coat over my shoulders—the same dark blue color as the dress I had worn on closing day.
"I didn't leave the family, Amber," I said as I walked past her toward the exit doors. "You sold me out years ago. I'm just finally settling the bill."
