Part 5
I don’t know why I become impossible.
Please come home.
Each message looked different outside the room in which it was written. Reed read them slowly, allowing shame to fill the gaps.
Mara answered each question.
Yes, she wrote them.
Yes, she meant parts of them.
Yes, she sometimes believed she caused his anger.
Reed produced a message in which Mara told a friend, I wish he would just do it and get it over with.
“What did you mean?” he asked.
“I was waiting for an argument.”
“An argument or an assault?”
“I didn’t know which.”
“Is it possible you anticipated violence where none was intended?”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible that fear changed your memory of events?”
“Possible.”
“Is it possible the scars came from the fall but not from an intentional push?”
“No.”
“Why are you certain?”
“Because he struck me first.”
“Your certainty is based on memory.”
“Yes.”
“A memory formed during what you describe as panic.”
“Yes.”
“And revisited for years in therapy.”
“Yes.”
“And discussed repeatedly with attorneys.”
“Yes.”
“And reinforced by financial conflict with Adrian.”
Mara looked at him.
“My memory is not false because powerful people had reasons to challenge it.”
Reed paused.
Judge Whitmore wrote something.
Reed shifted to the night Mara left.
“You slapped Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“You threw a wineglass.”
“At the wall.”
“You broke property.”
“Yes.”
“You took confidential company files.”
“I copied files related to my audit work.”
“Without authorization.”
“I had access.”
“That was not the question.”
“No. I did not have permission to remove them.”
“You contacted journalists.”
“After I left.”
“You threatened to expose Adrian unless he agreed to a financial settlement.”
“No.”
Reed approached with another exhibit.
“Is this your message?”
He read aloud.
If you keep pretending nothing happened, I will make sure everyone sees what you are.
Mara felt the courtroom tighten.
“Yes.”
“That is a threat.”
“It was anger.”
“It promises public exposure unless he stops disputing your version.”
“It tells him I will speak.”
“You were seeking twenty-five million dollars in the divorce.”
“My attorney proposed a division based on the marital agreement.”
“You settled for eight.”
“Yes.”
“And signed a confidentiality agreement.”
“Yes.”
“Then violated it.”
“The agreement permitted reporting unlawful conduct.”
“Yet prosecutors declined charges.”
“Yes.”
“Regulators closed the North Coast inquiry without action.”
“Yes.”
“Vale Meridian’s board found no intentional misconduct.”
“The board was selected by Adrian’s father.”
“Your answer is nonresponsive.”
Judge Whitmore said, “The court will determine that.”
Reed returned to his table.
He picked up a clear plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was a photograph of Mara’s back taken six years earlier. The image was grainy and poorly lit.
“Ms. Ellison, do you recognize this?”
Mara stared.
She had never seen that version.
It showed fresh injuries before the private physician treated them. A towel covered her lower back. Adrian’s hand appeared at the edge, holding the fabric in place.
“Yes.”
“Where was this taken?”
“In the study.”
“Who took it?”
“I thought Dr. Kerr.”
“Did you consent?”
“I don’t remember.”
Reed turned toward the judge.
“This photograph was produced last night by Dr. Kerr’s estate in response to subpoena.”
Claire stood. “We have not received this.”
“It was delivered electronically at six this morning.”
“And withheld until cross-examination.”
Reed said, “It is impeachment evidence.”
Judge Whitmore’s expression hardened.
“Approach.”
The attorneys went to the bench.
Mara remained at the microphone, staring at the photograph in Reed’s hand.
Adrian had told her no photographs existed.
His attorneys had argued no contemporaneous images supported her claim.
Now one had appeared.
Adrian leaned toward the image.
His face drained of color.
He had not known either.
At the bench, voices remained low.
Claire returned first.
She looked furious.
Judge Whitmore said, “The photograph will be marked. The court will hear foundation outside the presence of the witness. Mr. Reed, you will not question Ms. Ellison about an exhibit not properly disclosed until I determine whether your office complied with discovery obligations.”
Reed nodded.
“Understood, Your Honor.”
Mara knew from Claire’s face that nothing was understood.
The court recessed for lunch.
This time, reporters waited outside the courthouse.
Mara left through a side entrance with Claire and two members of the legal team. Camera shutters erupted behind the barricade. Questions crossed one another.
“Mara, did Adrian Vale cause the scars?”
“Why did you remain married?”
“Did you know a photograph existed?”
“Are you seeking criminal charges?”
“Did Lillian Cross leave the defendant?”
Claire guided Mara into a waiting sedan.
Inside, Mara pressed her forehead against the cool window.
The driver pulled away.
Claire sat beside her, typing rapidly.
“Where are we going?” Mara asked.
“My office.”
“I want food.”
“There’s food there.”
“Real food.”
“There are sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches made during litigation are not food.”
Claire stopped typing.
“Fine. We’ll stop.”
They went to a diner three blocks from the courthouse where nobody appeared to recognize them until a server placed menus on the table and stared at Mara’s short hair.
“You’re the woman from court.”
Claire said, “No.”
The server looked at her.
Claire added, “Not for the purpose of conversation.”
The woman nodded and walked away.
Mara ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Claire ordered coffee.
“You need protein,” Claire said.
“You need a personality outside law.”
“I had one in college.”
“What happened?”
“Student loans.”
Mara unfolded a paper napkin, then folded it again.
The habit had begun during the marriage. Adrian disliked wrinkled napkins and would smooth them flat before meals. Mara had started doing it first to prevent the small correction.
She stopped and left the napkin crooked.
Claire noticed.
“What are you thinking?”
“Dr. Kerr kept a photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Doctors document injuries.”
“He told Adrian he would not.”
“Maybe he lied to Adrian.”
“Maybe he kept evidence because he knew.”
Claire stirred coffee.
May you like
“Dr. Kerr died last year. His widow found archived files while closing the practice. Reed’s subpoena reached the estate last week.”
“Why subpoena him if they thought no records existed?”
