Chapter 14 - The Deposition of Inmate 48201
Z
The visitation room at FCI Cumberland had not changed in two years. It still smelled of industrial floor wax, stale coffee, and institutional despair. But this time, I didn't sit in the standard visitor section. I sat at the head of a stainless-steel conference table in a private legal deposition room, accompanied by Eleanor Vance, a certified court reporter, and a video camera mounted on a tripod.
The heavy door opened, and two armed corrections officers escorted Tyler inside.
Inmate 48201 looked drastically different from the man who had tried to intimidate me in a hospital corridor three years ago. His hair was streaked with gray, his face hollow, his orange uniform hanging loosely off his thin frame. But when he saw me sitting at the head of the table in a tailored dark blue suit, his eyes flashed with a pathetic, lingering arrogance.
“Clara,” Tyler sneered, shuffling to his chair as his hand shackles clanked against the table. “Come to gloat? Or did you finally realize you can’t run a real logistics company without a man’s vision?”
I didn't answer. I didn't even look at his face. I simply gestured to the court reporter, who pressed the record button on the camera.
“This is the video deposition of Tyler Vance Thorne in the matter of Hartwell Medical Logistics v. Apex BioMed and Victor Mercer, Case Number 24-CV-9901,” Eleanor announced into the microphone. “Witness is under federal oath.”
Tyler smirked, leaning back as far as his chains allowed. “I have nothing to say to you, Eleanor. I’m an inmate. I have limited memory of transactions from three years ago.”
“Let me refresh your memory, Tyler,” I said, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the metal table. My voice was low, smooth, and laced with absolute venom. “Six months ago, you accepted three visits from an attorney named Richard Vance—no relation to Marcus—who represents Victor Mercer.”
Tyler’s smirk faltered slightly. His eyes darted toward the camera, then back to me.
“During those visits,” I continued, pulling a stack of certified prison phone transcripts from my briefcase, “you provided Mercer’s legal team with the private encryption keys to the Cayman Islands shell company holding our thermal-tracking patents. In exchange, Mercer promised to deposit eight hundred thousand dollars into a irrevocable trust for your benefit upon your release in twelve months.”
“That’s a privileged attorney-client communication!” Tyler snapped, his face turning pale.
“Not when it’s conducted on a recorded prison phone line after you waived your privacy rights upon entering a federal facility,” Eleanor interrupted smoothly, sliding a copy of the official transcript across the table. “You discussed the exact details of how to use the Dead Hand clause to paralyze Clara’s vaccine supply chain. That constitutes a brand-new federal charge of Extortion, Conspiracy, and Wire Fraud.”
Tyler’s jaw worked silently. The cockiness melted away, replaced by the familiar, sweating panic of a coward who had been caught red-handed for the second time in his life.
“You don't understand,” Tyler stammered, his voice cracking as he looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes. “Mercer came to me, Clara! He promised he’d buy out my restitution! He said if I helped him, he’d make sure I got fifty grand a year in consulting fees after I got out! I was rotting in here with nothing! You took my money, my kids, my home!”
“You destroyed your own life, Tyler,” I replied coldly. “And now, you’ve added another ten years to your federal sentence.”
“Wait!” Tyler panicked, grabbing at his earpiece as if trying to pull himself closer to me. “Wait, Clara! Please! I can help you! I have the original email threads where Mercer explicitly acknowledges that he knew the patents were stolen from Hartwell! He admitted in writing that he was using them illegally to force a hostile takeover! I’ll sign an affidavit testifying against Mercer today! Just tell the prosecutor to drop the new indictment!”
I looked down at the man who had once been my husband—a pathetic parasite willing to betray anyone, sell out any partner, and crawl in the mud just to save his own skin.
I slowly gathered my documents and placed them back inside my leather briefcase.
“I don't need your affidavit, Tyler,” I said, standing up and buttoning my coat. “Our cyber-forensic team already breached Mercer’s private server three hours ago under a federal search warrant. We already have the emails.”
Tyler stared at me, his mouth agape, his face devoid of color. “Then... then why did you come here?”
I stepped closer to the glass partition, looking down into his wide, terrified eyes.
May you like
“I came here to look you in the eye one last time,” I whispered, my voice echoing in the small room. “To remind you that every time you try to destroy me, you only give me the weapon I need to bury you deeper. Enjoy your next decade in Cumberland, Inmate Thorne.”
I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, listening to the frantic, screaming pleas of Tyler Thorne echoing uselessly against the concrete walls behind me.
