CHAPTER 35: Deposition

The lawsuit dominated our lives for the next two weeks.

Lawyers. Meetings. Strategy sessions. Document review.

Alexander's legal team was five people strong, led by a woman named Patricia Chen who looked like she ate opposing counsel for breakfast.

"James's case is weak," she said at our first meeting. "But weak doesn't mean harmless. He's going for sympathy. The wronged son. The betrayed heir. It'll play well in the media."

"What's our strategy?" Alexander asked.

"We prove cause for termination. The harassment complaints. The embezzlement. We have three women willing to testify about James's behavior. We have bank records showing unauthorized spending. We bury him in evidence."

"And the defamation claim?" I asked.

Patricia looked at me. "That's trickier. He's claiming you and Alexander made false statements about him in your media interviews. We'll argue truth as defense, but we need to be careful. Every word you say from now on could be used against us."

"So we say nothing?"

"You say 'no comment' to everything. No interviews. No social media. Radio silence until trial."

Alexander's hand found mine under the table. "How long until trial?"

"Six months minimum. Maybe a year."

A year. I'd have the baby. Go back to work. Live my entire life under the shadow of this lawsuit.

"Can't we settle?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," Alexander said firmly.

"James wants $50 million AND control of the company," Patricia added. "There's no settlement position that doesn't amount to complete capitulation."

"So we fight," Alexander said.

"We fight," Patricia confirmed.

---

The hardest part was the deposition.

I had to sit in a conference room for six hours while James's lawyer—a man named Richard Wolfe who looked like he enjoyed making people cry—asked me invasive questions about my relationship with Alexander.

Patricia was beside me. Alexander wasn't allowed in the room.

"Ms. Martinez—"

"Mrs. Sterling," Patricia corrected.

Wolfe smiled thinly. "Mrs. Sterling. When did you first become attracted to Alexander Sterling?"

"I don't remember a specific moment."

"Was it before or after you ended things with James?"

"After."

"How long after?"

I glanced at Patricia. She nodded slightly.

"Several weeks."

"Several weeks. So you were attracted to your ex-boyfriend's father several weeks after ending a year-long relationship?"

"I didn't pursue those feelings—"

"But you had them."

"Eventually. Yes."

Wolfe made a note. "And when did you first act on this attraction?"

My face burned. "I don't understand the relevance—"

"Please answer the question, Mrs. Sterling."

Patricia interjected. "My client's private romantic life is not on trial here."

"Your client's romantic life is precisely what's on trial. She allegedly seduced my client's father, leading to my client's termination and disinheritance."

"Allegedly," Patricia emphasized. "And we dispute that characterization entirely."

The questions went on. And on.

When did we first kiss? Where? Who initiated? When did we first sleep together? Was I pregnant when we got engaged? Did Alexander know the baby was his?

Each question felt like a violation.

By hour four, I was exhausted and fighting tears.

"Let's take a break," Patricia said.

In the hallway, I found Alexander pacing.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Awful. They're making it sound like I deliberately seduced you as revenge against James."

"That's their narrative. We knew this was coming."

"Knowing doesn't make it easier." I sank into a chair. "They asked about the first time we slept together. In detail. Like I'm some kind of prostitute who calculated every move."

He knelt in front of me. "You're not on trial, Bella. James is. Remember that."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"I know. But Patricia will destroy him when it's his turn. Every lie. Every affair. Every harassment complaint. He'll regret ever filing this lawsuit."

I touched his face. "What if we lose?"

"We won't."

"But what if we do? What if he gets the money? The company?"

"Then we start over. Build something new. Together." His eyes were intense. "I don't need Sterling Corporation, Bella. I need you. That's it. Everything else is just noise."

---

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the deposition questions.

"You're thinking too loud again," Alexander murmured.

"Sorry."

He pulled me close. "Talk to me."

"I hate this. I hate being dissected like a lab specimen. I hate that our private life is being turned into evidence. I hate that our daughter is going to grow up with all of this documented in court records."

"I know."

"Do you? Do you really know what this feels like?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No. I don't. I've been through lawsuits before, but never anything this personal. Never with someone I love being dragged through the mud."

"Then how do you stay so calm?"

"I'm not calm. I'm furious." His arms tightened around me. "But fury won't help us win. Strategy will. Patience will. And faith that the truth will come out."

"What if the truth isn't enough?"

"Then we deal with it. Together."

There was that word again. Together.

"I took that teaching job to reclaim my identity," I said. "To prove I'm more than just your wife. But this lawsuit is making everything about us. About our relationship. About me being defined by you no matter what I do."

"Only in the short term. This lawsuit will end, Bella. The trial will happen, we'll win or lose, and life will move on. But your career? Your identity? That's forever. Don't let James take that from you."

I turned to face him in the darkness. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what happens—if we lose, if we lose everything—we'll be okay. That our family will be okay."

"We will be more than okay." He kissed me softly. "We'll have each other. We'll have our daughter. We'll have love. Everything else is just details."

"Details that could cost us $50 million."

"Money I can make again. You? Our baby? Irreplaceable."

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that love would be enough.

But as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't shake the worry.

This lawsuit was going to get worse before it got better.

And I wasn't sure how much worse we could survive.

---

The next morning brought new problems.

James had given another interview. This time to a legal podcast with millions of listeners.

"My father chose lust over family," his voice said through my phone speaker. "He was thinking with the wrong head, and now he's trying to destroy me to cover his own guilt."

Victoria, listening with me over breakfast, made a disgusted sound. "He's such a pig."

"He's doing what his lawyer told him to. Building sympathy."

"It's working." She showed me her phone. "T*****r is fifty-fifty. Half think he's a victim. Half think he's a spoiled brat."

"What do you think?"

"I think he's my brother and I love him, but he's also wrong. And he needs to lose this case or he'll never learn." She looked at me seriously. "You're my family now, Bella. You and Dad and the baby. James made his choice. I'm making mine."

My eyes stung. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just win this thing so we can all move on with our lives."

Patricia called an hour later with news.

"James's legal team subpoenaed your medical records. They want proof of the baby's paternity and conception date."

I felt sick. "They can do that?"

"They can try. We're fighting it on privacy grounds, but it's a gray area. Pregnancy is relevant to the timeline of events."

"What do I do?"

"Nothing yet. But Bella?" Patricia's voice was gentle. "You might want to prepare yourself. This is going to get more invasive before it gets better."

After she hung up, I sat in the bathroom, one hand on my growing bump.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," I whispered. "I'm sorry your first months of existence are being argued about in court. I'm sorry your family is so complicated. I'm sorry for all of it."

She kicked—stronger now, more insistent.

I smiled through tears. "You're right. No more apologizing. We're going to win this. For you."

Because that's what mothers did.

They fought.

Even when they were scared.

Even when the odds were terrible.

They fought for their children.

And I would fight for mine.