CHAPTER 9: THE DEPOSITION
The conference room was cold and sterile. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A long table stretched across the center, with Peter on one side and my family's lawyer on the other.
And across from me, looking small and scared, sat my mother.
Lauren was next to her. Eric was behind them, arms crossed, jaw tight. Derek was at the end of the table, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Dad wasn't there.
"Where's Dad?" I asked.
"He's not feeling well," Mom said. "This is too much for him."
"Too much," I repeated. "He couldn't handle sitting in a room while you sue me for money I gave you voluntarily."
Peter leaned over. "Rachel, let's get started."
The questions were routine at first. When did you start paying the mortgage? Did you have a written agreement? Did anyone ask you to pay?
"No," I said. "No one asked. I offered."
"Why?"
I looked at my mother. Her eyes were fixed on the table.
"Because I wanted to help. Because I loved them. Because I thought if I gave enough, they'd finally love me back."
"That's not true," Lauren said.
The lawyer cleared his throat. "Mrs. Whitman, please wait for your turn."
I kept going. "I paid the mortgage for three years. I paid utilities. I paid for car repairs. I bought groceries. I gave them everything I could, and they never said thank you. They never said anything except how I was doing it wrong."
I turned to my mother. "You told the family I was being dramatic when I left dinner. You told me not to contact you again. And when I stopped paying, you called me selfish."
Mom's face was pale. "That's not—"
"It's exactly what happened. And now you're suing me for stopping."
The lawyer tried to redirect. "Mrs. Whitman, are you claiming—"
"I'm claiming they took everything I gave and asked for more. And when I said no, they decided to take me to court. I'm done being their victim."
I looked at Derek. "You told your son I deserved to be humiliated. You spit in my food through him. You laughed at me."
Derek shifted in his seat. "That's not—"
"It's exactly what happened. And I have witnesses. Including the child you used to mock me."
Silence.
The lawyer looked at the papers in front of him. "Mrs. Whitman, perhaps we should take a break."
"I don't want a break," Mom said. "I want this over."
"Then withdraw the case," I said. "Drop the suit. And never speak to me again."
She stared at me.
"I'll give you until tomorrow," I said. "If you don't drop the case, I'll countersue for the full amount of every dollar I ever gave you. I'll make you prove in open court that you didn't steal from me."
"I never—"
"You took my money and told me I was worthless. That's theft. It's fraud. It's everything."
The lawyer leaned over and whispered to my mother.
She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something new in her eyes.
Fear.
"You don't mean that," she said.
"I mean every word."
Peter stood up. "We'll wait for your decision, Mrs. Whitman. Rachel, let's go."
We walked out of the room, and I didn't look back.
Outside, in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.
"That was incredible," Peter said.
"I'm shaking."
"That's okay. You did exactly what you needed to do."
I looked at him. "Do you think they'll drop the case?"
"I think your mother just realized she has everything to lose and nothing to gain. She'll drop it."
May you like
I hoped he was right.
But I wasn't sure about anything anymore.
