Chapter 16 - The Deposition
Gabriel and I fought about security three nights before my deposition.
Not because I did not want any.
Because I wanted boundaries.
"One driver," I said. "No tail car unless Priya or the police say there is a specific threat."
"Two people."
"One."
"Anna."
"Gabriel."
He paced once across the living room.
"Roland Hale has money, contacts, and a son facing charges."
"And I have a life."
"I am trying to keep you alive for it."
The words landed harder than he intended.
I saw regret immediately.
He sat down.
"That sounded like an order."
"It did."
"I'm sorry."
I sat beside him.
"I know you're afraid."
He looked at me.
"That is not a sentence people say to me often."
"Maybe they should."
His mouth tightened.
Chicago called Gabriel fearless because fear in men like him was usually hidden behind staff, lawyers, and locked doors.
I knew better.
He was afraid of helplessness.
Afraid of being unable to fix something before it reached the people he loved.
"One driver," I repeated. "And a second person only if there is a documented threat."
He exhaled.
"Fine."
"Thank you."
"I hate this marriage."
"No, you hate democracy."
He laughed.
The next day, Roland Hale's attorney subpoenaed records from our marriage.
Travel.
Property.
Security expenses.
Anything that could support the argument that I was not really a waitress but a covert extension of Gabriel's business interests.
It was invasive and insulting.
It was also legal enough to survive the first challenge.
My job became evidence.
My marriage became evidence.
Even the separate bank account I had kept since before the wedding became evidence.
The irony nearly made me scream.
I had kept that account because I feared disappearing into Gabriel's wealth.
Now Roland's lawyers argued it proved we had staged our marriage for appearances.
At deposition, his attorney asked why a woman married to a multimillionaire would wait tables.
I stared at him.
"Because I wanted to."
"You expect us to believe that?"
"I expect you to understand that money does not cancel work."
"But you did not need the paycheck."
"Need is not the only reason people work."
He leaned closer.
"Was your employment at The Imperial Room useful to your husband?"
"No."
"Did you ever overhear competitors?"
"Yes. It was a restaurant. People talked."
"Did you report those conversations to Mr. Kane?"
"No."
"Never?"
"Never."
He smiled as though he had trapped me.
"Your husband knew Hale executives dined there."
"Chicago knew Hale executives dined there. They liked being seen."
Priya's foot touched mine beneath the table.
Stay steady.
The lawyer changed direction.
"Mrs. Kane, would any of this have happened if your husband were an ordinary man?"
I thought about Preston's hand around my wrist.
The Coke.
The laughter.
David looking away.
"Yes," I said.
He blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Men like Preston humiliate service workers every day. The only unusual part was that this time he believed the worker's husband could be used as bait."
I leaned forward.
"If Gabriel had been a plumber, Preston still would have poured the Coke. He just would not have been afraid afterward."
For the first time all morning, the attorney had no immediate question.
Two days later, that answer appeared in the newspaper.
Not because we leaked it.
Because the deposition had become part of a public filing.
And under the headline was a second piece of news.
Roland Hale had been indicted.
---
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