Chapter 3 - The Legal War and Family Feud
Three weeks later, the war moved into a grand, mahogany-paneled deposition room. The air was thick with tension. On one side of the long table sat Ryan and his high-priced criminal defense lawyer, alongside Patricia, who looked visibly diminished but still wore her signature pearls like a shield. On our side sat Eleanor and myself.
The purpose of today’s deposition was to establish the division of assets for the expedited divorce filing, as well as to gather statements for the criminal case regarding the forged deed.
Ryan looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, his expensive suit looked slightly loose, and his usual arrogant smirk was completely gone. He refused to look me in the eye. Patricia, on the other hand, glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Eleanor started the proceedings by laying out a thick stack of documents. "Let the record show that we are reviewing the financial history of the marriage between Natalie Brooks and Ryan Ellison. We will begin with the property located at 1422 Elm Street."
Ryan's attorney, a man named Marcus Vance (ironically, no relation to Eleanor), cleared his throat. "My client is prepared to waive his rights to the physical property of the Elm Street house, provided that Ms. Brooks drops the criminal complaints regarding the alleged forgery and agrees to a mutual non-disclosure agreement."
"Absolutely not," Eleanor said without a second's hesitation. "The criminal charges are being prosecuted by the State of Wisconsin, not my client. We have no control over them, nor would we intervene if we could. Furthermore, the house is not marital property. It was purchased entirely with sole funds two years prior to the marriage, and the deed has remained exclusively in Ms. Brooks' name."
"But my client contributed to the upkeep and maintenance of the home!" Marcus argued. "He paid for several major repairs!"
I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. The entire room turned to look at me. "Ryan didn't pay for a single thing," I said, staring directly at my husband. "Every time the plumber came, every time the furnace needed service, he conveniently left his wallet at work or claimed his business accounts were temporarily frozen. I have the receipts from my personal checking account for every single repair done to that house over the last three years."
Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Let’s talk about the real issue here," Eleanor continued, pulling out a new set of documents. "Let’s talk about the text messages exchanged between Ryan Ellison and Patricia Ellison over the past six months."
Patricia stiffened. "Our private messages are none of your business!"
"They are when they outline a conspiracy to commit fraud, Patricia," Eleanor replied smoothly. She began reading from a transcript. "On April 14th, Patricia texted Ryan: 'Have you gotten her to sign yet? My condo association is raising fees again and I need to get out of here. If she won't sign, just use that old signature page from the tax documents. She'll never check the county registry.' To which Ryan replied: 'Working on it. She’s getting suspicious about the grocery bills, so I need to play it cool. I’ll handle the notary.'"
The room went dead silent. Ryan turned slowly to look at his mother, his eyes blazing with fury. "You didn't delete your messages? I told you to delete everything!"
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" Patricia snapped back, her elite facade completely shattering. "You’re the lawyer! You were supposed to protect me! You told me that if we got caught, you could just claim it was a clerical error! Now my reputation is ruined! My friends at the country club are talking about me!"
"Your reputation?" Ryan yelled, slamming his hand down on the table, completely ignoring his lawyer's frantic attempts to calm him down. "I am facing disbarment, Mother! I am facing prison time! And it’s because you kept pushing and pushing because you couldn't afford your lifestyle on your pathetic little pension!"
"How dare you!" Patricia screamed, standing up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "I gave you everything! I helped you build your practice! I gave you twenty thousand dollars for your startup costs!"
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"Which you stole from your own sister’s estate!" Ryan roared back.
I sat back in my chair, watching the spectacle with a strange sense of peace. The two people who had spent years trying to make me feel small, gaslighting me into believing I was the selfish one, were now tearing each other apart like wild dogs. They didn't need me to destroy them; their own greed was doing the work for me.
