Chapter 8 - THE PAPER SHE REALLY HAD SIGNEDFor the first time in weeks, Damian had produced a document Olivia could not call forged.
Of course she did.
Some women dress for depositions the way generals dress for battle.
Cream-colored suit.
Gold watch.
Perfect silver-blond hair.
A handbag that probably cost more than my first car.
She did not look at Olivia when she entered.
She looked at me.
“This is unnecessary.”
“So was notarizing a forged signature,” I replied.
Her attorney quickly interrupted.
“We have made no such admission.”
“Then this should be interesting.”
Maya kicked me lightly under the conference table.
I behaved.
Mostly.
Helen’s deposition began at nine.
For the first hour, she remembered almost nothing.
Did she notarize the trust transfer?
She did not recall.
Was Olivia present?
She could not remember.
Had Damian discussed the source of restaurant startup capital?
Not specifically.
Did she know Serena Vale?
Only socially.
Did she know Damian maintained a Buckhead apartment?
No.
Did she understand what a notary certifies?
That question irritated her.
“Of course.”
“Then when you notarize a signature, are you attesting that the signer appeared before you?”
“Yes.”
Maya slid the trust document across the table.
“Is that your stamp?”
Helen stared.
“It appears to be.”
“Your signature?”
“Yes.”
“And Olivia’s signature?”
“I assume.”
“Mrs. Cross, I did not ask you to assume. Did you personally witness Olivia sign this document?”
Helen looked at her attorney.
He said nothing.
“I don’t recall.”
Maya opened another folder.
“On the date this document was notarized, Olivia was in Vancouver.”
Helen’s expression barely changed.
“We have airline records. Hotel records. Photographs. Customs documentation.”
Silence.
“So I’ll ask again. Did you personally witness Olivia sign this document?”
“No.”
Olivia inhaled sharply.
“Did Damian bring you the document?”
Helen looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you Olivia had signed it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she had not?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“My son said it was urgent.”
“And that was enough?”
Helen finally looked at Olivia.
For one second, I thought I saw regret.
Then it vanished.
“You were married.”
Olivia stared at her.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Married people share assets.”
Maya leaned forward.
“Trust assets do not become available for forgery because two people exchanged vows.”
Helen flushed.
“I did not forge anything.”
“No. You notarized something you did not witness.”
Her attorney called for a break.
In the hallway, Olivia shook.
Not from fear.
From fury.
“She knew.”
“We don’t know everything she knew,” I said.
“She knew enough.”
Olivia was right.
The second half of the deposition proved it.
Maya produced emails recovered from old company records.
One came from Helen to Damian.
Subject: OLIVIA.
You need to keep her focused on the marriage until financing is complete. Margaret asks too many questions. Once the restaurant is stable, Olivia will stop worrying about where the money came from.
I read it twice.
So did Olivia.
Helen’s attorney objected to nearly every question afterward.
It did not matter.
The email existed.
Then came another.
Damian to Helen:
She thinks the 42K was her only investment.
Helen:
Better that way. She is emotional about Thomas’s money.
That was the moment Olivia stopped seeing Helen as a difficult mother-in-law and saw her clearly.
An accomplice.
Maybe not in every crime.
But in the deception that started everything.
After the deposition, Olivia sat alone in Maya’s conference room.
I joined her.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Fair answer.
She held the printed email.
“She knew Dad.”
“Yes.”
“She came to his funeral.”
“Yes.”
“She hugged me.”
I remembered.
Helen had stood beside Olivia’s grave-side chair and told her Thomas would always watch over her.
Years later, she helped Damian secretly take the money Thomas left behind.
“I keep thinking there has to be some explanation that makes people less awful,” Olivia said.
“Sometimes there isn’t.”
She looked at me.
“Did you ever suspect?”
“No.”
“Anything?”
“I suspected Damian was controlling. I thought he was arrogant. I knew I didn’t like how small you became around him.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
That hurt because I had asked myself the same question.
“I did sometimes.”
“Not really.”
“No.”
I admitted it.
“I was afraid if I pushed too hard, he’d make you choose.”
Olivia’s eyes filled.
“He did anyway.”
“Yes.”
“I chose him.”
“You chose your husband because you believed marriage was supposed to be safe.”
“I chose wrong.”
“You discovered the truth.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
I reached for her.
“But it’s what comes next that matters.”
She leaned against me.
For several minutes we sat quietly.
Then she asked, “What happens to the restaurant?”
That question surprised me.
“You care?”
“I care about the people.”
Twenty-three employees had filed wage complaints.
More were considering it.
If Sable & Vine collapsed, Damian would suffer.
So would dishwashers, line cooks, servers, hosts, bartenders, and families who had nothing to do with his behavior.
Maya explained our options.
Seek a receiver.
Force financial oversight.
Attempt to remove Damian as manager under the operating agreement.
Use the founder note as leverage.
Possibly restructure.
It would not be easy.
But for the first time, Olivia considered a future in which Sable & Vine existed without Damian.
Then we received the independent accounting report.
The numbers were worse than expected.
Damian-controlled entities had received nearly $3.4 million in payments over thirty months.
Not all were necessarily improper.
But more than $1.1 million lacked adequate documentation.
Personal expenses exceeded $400,000.
Payroll discrepancies potentially approached $600,000.
And offshore transfers totaled $2.2 million.
Then came the figure that made Maya sit down.
Sable & Vine had earned substantially more than Damian claimed.
After adjustments, operating profit for the previous year may have exceeded $4 million.
Olivia stared at the report.
“He told me we were almost bankrupt.”
“He lied.”
“He said we couldn’t afford to pay me.”
“He lied.”
“He said every mistake I made could destroy us.”
“He lied.”
Each answer seemed to return a piece of her.
Damian called a press conference that afternoon.
His attorney should have stopped him.
Apparently, nobody could.
He stood outside Sable & Vine beneath its black-and-gold sign and told reporters he was the victim of a “coordinated corporate theft.”
He said disgruntled employees were conspiring with his estranged wife.
He accused me of manipulating Olivia for money.
Then a reporter asked the question he had not prepared for.
“Mr. Cross, did you require your wife to eat food from customers’ plates as punishment?”
Damian blinked.
“What?”
“Video allegedly exists.”
His face changed.
“Absolutely not.”
The reporter continued.
“Did you threaten employees concerning immigration status?”
“No.”
“Did you forge your wife’s signature?”
“Ridiculous.”
“Did your mother notarize a document your wife signed while she was in Canada?”
Damian walked away.
The clip went viral before dinner.
Not because of what he said.
Because of his face.
For the first time, the public saw the charming restaurateur lose his smile.
But Damian still had one card left.
That night, he filed for divorce.
His petition accused Olivia of adultery.
Financial abuse.
Substance addiction.
Mental instability.
And theft.
None of it was true.
But the final request was what mattered.
Damian asked the court for an emergency order declaring Sable & Vine his separate property.
Maya read the filing at my dining table.
“This is desperate.”
“Can he win?” Olivia asked.
“Not based on what we know.”
“What if he has something else?”
Maya turned the page.
Then stopped.
“What?”
She read silently.
“Maya?”
Her expression became serious.
“He attached a postnuptial agreement.”
Olivia frowned.
“What postnuptial agreement?”
“A document dated two years ago.”
She handed it over.
According to the document, Olivia had voluntarily surrendered all claims to Sable & Vine.
Her signature appeared at the bottom.
May you like
And unlike the others, when Olivia saw this one, she went completely still.
“I signed that.”
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