Chapter 6 - Under Oath
Z
The conference room on the fourteenth floor of the county courthouse smelled of lemon polish and old leather. A long mahogany table stretched down the center of the room, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that showed every wrinkle, every sweat stain, and every flicker of anxiety.
I sat at the end of the table, flanked by Arthur Vance and his legal team. Across from us sat Greg, Eleanor, and their high-priced criminal defense attorney, a sleek, razor-tongued man named Harrison Sterling (no relation to me, though the irony was heavy).
Eleanor sat stiffly in her leather chair, wearing a dark navy Chanel suit and pearls, trying desperately to project an air of regal indifference. But her hands, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling slightly. Greg looked defeated, sitting slouched with dark circles under his hollow eyes, refusing to make eye contact with me.
In the corner sat a court reporter, her fingers poised over her stenography machine, alongside a high-definition video camera aimed directly at Eleanor's face.
"This deposition of Eleanor Montgomery is now on the record," Arthur announced, flipping open a blue binder. "Mrs. Montgomery, state your full name for the record."
"Eleanor Beatrice Montgomery," she replied, her voice clipped and cold.
"Mrs. Montgomery," Arthur began smoothly, leaning forward. "Let's start with October fourteenth of last year. Where were you when your son Greg presented a quitclaim deed to notary Sarah Jenkins?"
Harrison Sterling immediately interjected. "Objection. Foundation. My client has no recollection of specific dates from over a year ago."
"I'm sure her memory can be refreshed," Arthur said, sliding a printed transcript across the table. "This is a certified transcript of an audio recording provided to the District Attorney's office, wherein you explicitly threatened to ruin Sarah Jenkins' family if she did not notarize a forged document. Is that your voice on the recording, Mrs. Montgomery?"
Eleanor didn't look at the paper. She stared straight into Arthur’s eyes. "I spoke to Mrs. Jenkins regarding a charitable matter related to her daughter's school tuition. Whatever audio you claim to have has been taken wildly out of context."
"Out of context?" Arthur smiled thin, predatory smile. "You told her, and I quote, 'I will make sure I erase you.' How does erasing a single mother fit into a charitable conversation?"
"Objection! Argumentative!" Sterling snapped. "Move on, counsel!"
"Gladly," Arthur said, pulling out a second file. "Let's talk about the Golden Spoon Catering company. Mrs. Montgomery, between 2023 and 2025, over sixty thousand dollars was transferred from my client's joint bank accounts into accounts controlled by your daughter, Chloe. Was this money a loan?"
Eleanor adjusted her pearls. "It was a family financial arrangement. Greg was helping his sister expand her business. Families help each other, Mr. Vance. Though I wouldn't expect your client to understand family loyalty."
I felt a surge of white-hot anger, but I forced myself to remain completely motionless, staring at Eleanor with cold, unyielding silence.
"Family loyalty?" Arthur chuckled softly. "Mrs. Montgomery, Golden Spoon Catering filed for bankruptcy three years ago. The business didn't exist. The sixty thousand dollars wasn't used for expansion. It was used to pay cash settlements to three victims of a massive salmonella outbreak to prevent criminal negligence charges from being filed against Chloe. Isn't that correct?"
Eleanor’s facade finally cracked. Her jaw twitched, and a flash of genuine panic flickered across her eyes. She looked quickly at her lawyer.
"My client asserts her Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination regarding any unindicted business matters," Sterling said hastily, his forehead glistening with a fine sheet of sweat.
"I see," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Then let's talk about the offshore entity registered in the Cayman Islands under the name 'EBM Holdings Limited'."
Greg’s head snapped up. He looked at Arthur in absolute horror. "Wait... what?"
"Silence, Greg!" Eleanor hissed sharply, slamming her hand onto the mahogany table.
"Mr. Vance, this is entirely outside the scope of a marital dissolution deposition!" Sterling shouted, standing up from his chair.
"It is directly within the scope of marital asset distribution," Arthur countered coolly, holding up a stack of international banking records. "Two days ago, federal financial investigators executed a freeze order on EBM Holdings. Over two point four million dollars was funneled into that account over the last six years—including funds siphoned directly from my client's husband, Greg Montgomery."
Greg looked at his mother, his face twisting into an expression of profound shock and betrayal.
"Mom?" Greg choked out, his voice cracking. "Two point four million dollars? You... you told me you were broke! You told me you needed my help to pay off Chloe's debts or we’d lose everything!"
"Greg, shut your mouth!" Eleanor barked, her voice screeching with desperation.
"You made me take out a second mortgage on my house!" Greg yelled, abandoning all legal discipline as he stood up, towering over his mother. "You made me sign that quitclaim deed! You told me it was the only way to save the family from ruin, and you had two million dollars sitting in the Caymans?!"
"Sit down, Mr. Montgomery!" Sterling tried to regain control, but the dam had burst.
"She lied to me, Jess!" Greg spun around, tears streaming down his face as he looked at me across the table. "She told me she was broke! She told me you were trying to leave me and take the kids, so I had to secure the house for Eleanor's estate! She manipulated me!"
I looked at Greg, feeling no satisfaction, only a profound, tragic pity for a man who had allowed his mother to hollow out his entire existence.
"You let her manipulate you, Greg," I said softly, my voice cutting through the chaos of the room. "You chose her lies over your wife and children. And now, you get to pay the price together."
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Eleanor slumped back into her leather chair, her face pale, her royal posture completely shattered. The video camera recorded every second of her collapse—the proud matriarch reduced to a cornered criminal, exposed by her own greed and the broken son she had used as a pawn.
Arthur turned to the court reporter. "Please mark the Cayman records as Exhibit D. We are concluding this session to hand all materials over to the United States Attorney's Office."
