Chapter 18: The Deposition
310 words
The conference room smelled of lemon polish and fear. Marcus Thorne sat at the head of the mahogany table, flanked by three high-priced corporate attorneys. Despite the raid, he still wore the mask of the untouchable CEO.
Julian sat opposite him, files stacked like fortifications on the table. A stenographer typed silently in the corner.
“Mr. Thorne,” Julian began, his voice dangerously calm. “Did you authorize the reduction in night staff on the night of November 12th?”
“I delegate operational decisions,” Thorne sniffed, adjusting his compulsively expensive watch. “I cannot be expected to know every shift detail.”
“So you deny prioritizing profit over patient safety?”
“Absolutely. Patient care is our north star.” Thorne leaned back, a smirk ghosting his lips. He thought this was a standard deposition questions check strategy.
Julian didn't blink. He slid a single piece of paper across the table. It was a photocopy of the ledger seized from the safe.
“Then can you explain this handwritten note,” Julian said, “dated November 1st? ‘Cut Q4 nursing overhead by 15% to trigger executive performance bonus.’”
Thorne froze. His lawyers leaned in, scrambling to read the document.
“Is that your handwriting, Mr. Thorne?” Julian pressed.
“I… I don’t recall,” Thorne stammered, the sweat returning to his hairline.
“Let me refresh your memory,” Julian said, sliding a second paper. “This is a bank transfer. You doubled your personal bonus the same month Arthur Vance was hospitalized for malnutrition. You starved him to buy a Bentley, didn’t you?”
“Objection!” Thorne’s lawyer shouted. “Harassing the witness!”
But Thorne was staring at the paper, his face pale. The perjury penalties were looming, but the corporate negligence proof was already on the table.
“I want to take a break,” Thorne wheezed, loosening his tie. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the terrified look of a man watching the guillotine blade rise.
End of Chapter 18
