Chapter 14 - The Deposition
Grant wore the suit we bought for our fifth anniversary dinner.
I recognized the tiny repaired seam near the cuff.
For some reason, that nearly broke me.
He sat across the conference room with his attorney beside him.
Rachel sat beside me.
A court reporter prepared the transcript.
I was not required to attend every minute.
I chose to.
Grant swore to tell the truth.
Rachel began gently.
Name.
Employment.
Income.
Accounts.
Then the questions sharpened.
“Mr. Bennett, did your wife authorize you to apply for a home-equity line against the Wellesley property?”
“No.”
“Did you believe you had authority to begin the application?”
“I believed she would agree.”
“That was not my question.”
Grant shifted.
“No.”
“Did Mrs. Bennett create the email address EmilyBennettHome?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“My mother.”
“Did you know she had created it?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you instruct Hartwell Renovation to communicate with that email address?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know an approval was sent from that account in your wife’s name?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Afterward.”
“Did you correct the contractor?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He swallowed.
“Because I thought Emily would agree once we talked.”
Rachel paused.
“Did you ever talk to her before charging the $8,500 deposit?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize charges relating to your mother’s condo on a card attached to your wife’s inherited account?”
“Yes.”
“Did your wife know?”
“Not specifically.”
“Did you understand she believed the card was being used primarily for household expenses?”
“Yes.”
“Did you withdraw marital savings to invest in the Arlington property?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell your wife beforehand?”
“No.”
Question by question, Grant dismantled his own defenses.
He did not deny much anymore.
His attorney had clearly told him lying would worsen everything.
Then Rachel reached the signature.
“Did you create the letter sent to Commonwealth Heritage Bank bearing what appeared to be your wife’s signature?”
“No.”
“Did you upload it?”
Grant paused.
“Yes.”
My breath caught.
“Who created it?”
Another pause.
“My mother.”
Linda.
I had expected it.
Still, hearing it under oath felt different.
“Did you know Mrs. Bennett had not signed it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why upload it?”
Grant stared at the table.
“I was desperate.”
“For what?”
“The Arlington closing timeline.”
“Why?”
“I had already committed money.”
“Money your wife did not know you had committed?”
“Yes.”
Rachel let silence work.
Grant looked toward me once.
I did not look away.
“Why did you believe your wife would eventually consent?”
“Because it was a good investment.”
“That does not answer the question.”
He exhaled.
“Because she hates losing money.”
My stomach turned.
Exactly what the email had said.
Rachel continued.
“So you believed once her joint funds were already at risk, she would approve the transaction rather than allow the deposit to be lost?”
Grant whispered, “Yes.”
“And did you intentionally delay telling her until after the Christmas celebration?”
His attorney leaned forward.
“Clarify which information.”
“The financing plan.”
Grant nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother didn’t want a fight before Christmas.”
Rachel’s voice remained calm.
“Yet Mrs. Bennett was not invited to Christmas.”
Grant closed his eyes briefly.
“No.”
“Who decided that?”
“My mother suggested it.”
“Who agreed?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Early December.”
“So when you told Mrs. Bennett that Christmas dinner would occur Saturday, you knew the family celebration was scheduled for another day?”
“Yes.”
I felt my fingernails press into my palm.
“Why lie?”
Grant looked at me now.
For the first time that day.
“Because I was angry.”
Rachel asked, “About what?”
“She didn’t want Mom moving in.”
“Mrs. Bennett testified she said the issue required discussion.”
“That always meant no.”
“Did she say no?”
“No.”
“Did you interpret her request to discuss permanent occupancy of her separately titled home as rejection?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not logic.
Emotion turned into permission.
Rachel shifted topics.
Trading losses.
Grant admitted them.
He admitted moving joint savings.
He admitted using my card for Linda.
Then came the question I did not expect.
“Mr. Bennett, did you consult anyone about divorce before your wife filed?”
His attorney objected to privilege issues.
Rachel narrowed the question.
“Did you consider the financial consequences of divorce before December twenty-third?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“November.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because things were bad.”
Were they?
I had not known.
We had argued.
Worked too much.
Made love less.
Canceled dinners.
But I had not known my husband was considering divorce.
“Did you intend to divorce your wife?”
“No.”
“What did you intend?”
“To understand what would happen if she left after Arlington closed.”
Rachel glanced at the handwritten note.
“Is that why you researched ownership structure?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother know?”
“Yes.”
Rachel sat back.
“I have nothing further for now.”
Grant’s attorney requested a break.
The court reporter stopped.
Grant stood.
I stayed seated.
Then he walked toward me.
Rachel immediately rose.
Grant stopped several feet away.
“Can I say something?”
I looked at Rachel.
She nodded.
Grant’s eyes were red.
“I never planned to take your house.”
I believed him.
That was the strange part.
“I know.”
He looked stunned.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“You believe me?”
“I believe you planned to use it.”
His face collapsed.
“That’s different.”
“It isn’t different enough.”
He whispered my name.
I stood.
“Grant, you keep defending yourself against being the worst possible version of what you did.”
He stared at me.
“I don’t think you wanted me homeless.”
“No.”
“I don’t think you wanted to destroy me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I think you wanted my resistance to stop mattering.”
He said nothing.
“And that is enough.”
I walked out.
Rachel followed.
In the elevator, she handed me a tissue.
I had not realized I was crying.
“Did I do okay?”
“You weren’t testifying.”
“I know.”
She smiled faintly.
“You did okay anyway.”
The elevator doors opened.
My phone buzzed.
Nathan.
I answered.
His voice was shaking.
“Emily, Mom just called me.”
“What happened?”
“She knows Grant said she created the signature letter.”
Of course she did.
Grant’s attorney had likely informed Linda’s counsel.
“What did she say?”
Nathan hesitated.
“She said if Grant is going to blame her, she’ll tell everyone what he did with your father’s money.”
I stopped walking.
“What does that mean?”
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“I don’t know.”
But suddenly, five years after my father’s death, I was terrified there was still one account we had not found.
