Chapter 6 - The Discovery Depositions
The discovery phase of the trial took place in a sterile conference room on the fourth floor of the county courthouse.
For the first time since I walked out of my parents’ dining room, I came face-to-face with my father.
George Winters looked older. The arrogant, unshakeable confidence that had defined his entire life seemed slightly dented around the edges, replaced by a cold, venomous fury. His gray hair was perfectly combed, his bespoke navy suit tailored to perfection, but his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
Beside him sat my mother, her face locked in a mask of bitter resentment, refusing to look in my direction.
Julian Vance, their defense attorney, tried to maintain an air of bored condescension, but even he looked stressed as Marcus Vance laid out our exhibits across the mahogany deposition table.
“Mr. Winters,” Marcus began, stepping smoothly toward my father with a printed copy of the laboratory analysis report in one hand. “Directing your attention to the evening of October twelfth. You hosted a birthday dinner for your granddaughter, Mia Winters, turning nine years old. Correct?”
“It was a family gathering,” my father muttered stiffly.
“A family gathering where you presented the birthday girl with a paper plate containing commercial canine food,” Marcus stated.
“It was a metaphorical lesson,” my father snapped, his temper flaring despite his lawyer’s warning hand on his arm. “The girl needed to understand the consequences of her mother’s poor life choices. In this family, we don't reward laziness.”
“Laziness?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “She is a nine-year-old child who earned straight A’s in school. Is academic achievement considered laziness in your household, Mr. Winters?”
“She comes from a broken line of failure,” my father sneered, his eyes darting toward me with pure venom. “Her father was a grease-monkey mechanic who left her mother penniless. I was teaching her where she belongs if she doesn't learn discipline.”
Marcus didn't flinch. Instead, he walked over to the projector screen and clicked a button.
The audio recording of my father attempting to bribe Elena Gomez echoed off the conference room walls.
“You sign it, or you’ll never work a hospitality job in this county again.”
The room went dead silent.
My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Julian Vance closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in utter despair as he realized his clients had lied to him about their actions.
My father’s face drained of all color. He stared at the speakers, then at Marcus, realizing that the trap had snapped shut completely.
“Mr. Winters,” Marcus said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That is an audio recording of you tampering with a witness in a civil litigation. Combined with the laboratory report verifying pet-grade food served to a minor, your defense has just collapsed.”
Julian Vance leaned over to whisper urgently in my father’s ear. My father shoved his lawyer’s arm away, glaring at me with unadulterated hatred.
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“You’re destroying everything I built,” my father hissed across the table.
“You destroyed it yourself, Dad,” I said, my voice steady, clear, and utterly calm. “I’m just here to watch it fall.”
