Depositions began.
Marcus Webb took the stand.
Damien watched from the back of the room.
And Sterling asked the question that changed everything.
---
The deposition was held in a sterile conference room.
White walls. Fluorescent lights. A court reporter in the corner.
Marcus Webb sat at the table.
His face was healed. His lip had a scar. His hands were steady.
But his eyes were different.
Harder.
"He did this to me," Marcus said, pointing to the scar. "Damien Moreau beat me. Hung me upside down. Threatened to kill me."
Sterling sat across from him.
Calm. Collected.
"Dr. Webb, you're a therapist."
"Yes."
"You treat patients with trauma."
"Yes."
"You've written papers on burnout and PTSD."
"Yes."
"So you understand the mind. You understand fear. You understand what happens when someone is pushed too far."
"I understand all of that."
"Then you also understand that your patient, Christabel Moreau, was in a fragile state when she came to you."
---
Marcus shifted in his seat.
"She was vulnerable."
"She was lost."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
Sterling leaned forward.
"Dr. Webb, did you ever discuss Christabel Moreau's therapy sessions with anyone outside of your professional relationship?"
Marcus's face didn't change.
But his hands tightened.
"I'm bound by patient confidentiality."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know what you asked."
"Then answer."
---
The room was silent.
The court reporter waited.
Eli watched from the corner, taking notes.
Marcus looked at Sterling.
"No."
"No, you never discussed her sessions?"
"No."
Sterling smiled.
"Then why do we have records of your phone calls with Victor Cross?"
---
Marcus went pale.
"Victor Cross?"
"The man funding the Syndicate. The man who wants to destroy Damien and Christabel Moreau."
"I don't know anyone named Victor Cross."
Sterling slid a photograph across the table.
Marcus and Victor Cross. Meeting at a café. Three months ago.
Marcus stared at the photograph.
"That's not-"
"It's you. It's Victor Cross. It's a café three blocks from your office."
"I was there for a different reason."
"What reason?"
Marcus was silent.
---
Sterling leaned back.
"Let me tell you what I think happened."
"I don't care what you think."
"Victor Cross lost everything. His company. His wealth. His reputation. He watched Damien and Christabel Moreau build an empire from the ashes of his failure."
Marcus didn't speak.
"He wanted revenge. But he also wanted money. He's down to his last $48 million. That sounds like a lot. But for a man who was worth billions, it's nothing."
"Good for him."
"Good for him indeed. So he needed a way to get money back. He couldn't sue directly. The merger was legal. The acquisition was fair. So he found someone else. Someone who could sue."
---
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"Someone like you, Dr. Webb. A therapist with a grudge. A man who was beaten by a powerful client. A man who could claim emotional distress. A man who could ask for millions."
"You're making things up."
"Am I?"
Sterling slid another document across the table.
Bank records. Victor Cross's accounts.
"He's been funding your legal fees. Paying for your lawyers. Covering your expenses. All of it traced back to accounts he controls."
Marcus stared at the documents.
His face was white.
"I didn't know."
"You didn't know who was paying for your lawsuit?"
"I knew someone was helping me. I didn't know it was him."
---
Damien watched from the back of the room.
His face was calm.
But his hands were clenched.
Christabel sat beside him.
She took his hand.
"You're squeezing too hard."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
"I'm angry."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
Sterling continued.
"So let me understand, Dr. Webb. You're suing my client for five million dollars. Your legal fees are being paid by a man who lost his company to my client's merger. A man who is now down to his last $48 million. A man who has every reason to want my client destroyed."
"I didn't know."
"You didn't think to ask who was paying for your lawsuit?"
"I thought it was a pro bono arrangement."
"A pro bono arrangement worth hundreds of thousands of dollars?"
Marcus didn't answer.
---
Sterling stood.
"That's all for today, Dr. Webb. But we're not done."
Marcus stood.
His hands were shaking.
"I want my lawyer."
"Your lawyer is paid for by Victor Cross."
"I want my lawyer."
"Then call him. But understand something."
Marcus looked at him.
Sterling stepped closer.
"Your lawsuit isn't about justice. It's about theft. Victor Cross is trying to use you to steal money from my clients. And when this is over, he'll be broke. And so will you."
---
Marcus walked out of the room.
The door closed behind him.
Eli looked up from his notes.
"He's lying."
"About what?" Sterling asked.
"About not knowing. He knew exactly who was funding his lawsuit. He just didn't think we'd find out."
Sterling smiled.
"Then we make him prove it."
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
Lena was teething. Fussy. Nothing made her happy.
"Bah," Lena said. Angry. Frustrated.
"I know, little one. Your teeth hurt. Everything hurts."
Lena cried.
"I know. I feel the same way sometimes."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's not sleeping?"
"She's teething."
"Do you need help?"
"Just hold her."
He took Lena from her arms.
The baby cried.
Then stopped.
Then looked at her father.
"Da," she said.
"She's getting better at it."
"She's going to be a talker."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to silence her."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"Cross is down to his last $48 million," Christabel said.
"That's what the records show."
"He's gambling everything on this lawsuit."
"He's desperate."
"Desperate men make mistakes."
He looked at her.
"Then we wait for him to make one."