Chapter 5 - The Deposition
Three months later, we found ourselves in a sterile, glass-walled conference room on the twentieth floor of an office building downtown. The temporary custody hearing was approaching, and David had requested depositions from both Luca and Wendy.
Luca sat across the mahogany table, flanked by a high-priced attorney named Richard Sterling. Luca looked thinner, his eyes shadowed with dark circles, his usual smooth confidence replaced by a twitchy, defensive energy. Wendy sat next to him, wearing an expensive navy suit, her lips pressed into a thin, bitter line.
"State your name for the record," David began, leaning back in his chair with a pen resting casually between his fingers.
"Luca Anthony Marino," my husband replied, staring directly at the microphone in the center of the table.
David took Luca through the basics—finances, employment, living arrangements—before pivoting sharply.
"Mr. Marino, let's talk about the afternoon of September 15th, your daughter’s second birthday party."
Luca cleared his throat. "It was a family gathering."
"Did your mother make a comment regarding your daughter's speech capabilities and her status in the family?"
"She was just expressing concern," Luca said quickly. "Mom has always been very involved."
"I see," David said. He pulled a tablet from his briefcase and laid it on the table. "I'm going to play an audio clip from that afternoon. Please listen carefully."
He hit play. The audio rang out crisp and clear in the silent conference room:
Do it now, Mom. Remind her she’s not the favorite. Jessi’s getting too comfortable thinking she runs this family.
Luca’s attorney immediately interjected. "Objection. The authenticity of this recording has not been formally stipulated."
"We have an affidavit from the individual who recorded it, along with metadata confirming time and location," David replied calmly. He turned back to Luca. "Mr. Marino, is that your voice?"
Luca swallowed hard. His eyes flicked nervously toward his mother, who was sitting frozen, her face flushed red.
"I... I don't recall saying that," Luca stammered.
"Are you testifying under oath that this is not your voice?" David pressed, his tone dropping an octave, carrying the weight of authority.
"I... I might have said something similar, but it was taken out of context!" Luca blurted out. "Jessi was constantly pushing my family away! She was trying to isolate me from my mother!"
"So your strategy to handle marital tension was to instruct your mother to publicly belittle your two-year-old child?" David asked, his words falling like anvil strikes.
"That's not what I meant!" Luca raised his voice, his composure shattering. "I was frustrated! Jessi never respected my mother! She always acted like she was better than us!"
"Mr. Marino," David continued smoothly, unbothered by the outburst. "Have you ever defended your wife or daughter when your mother criticized them?"
"I tried to keep the peace!" Luca shouted.
"By joining in on the criticism?"
"I was trying to manage the situation!"
David turned his attention to Wendy. "Mrs. Marino, let's turn to you."
Wendy straightened her shoulders, putting on a stoic mask. "I have done nothing but love my granddaughter."
"Mrs. Marino, on August 12th, did you send a text message to your son stating, and I quote: 'If Jessi doesn't bring Fiona to Sunday dinner, I will make sure everyone knows what kind of unfit mother she is'?"
Wendy’s mask slipped. "That was a private conversation between a mother and her son!"
"It was a text message provided in discovery," David corrected. "Did you write it?"
"I was angry!" Wendy snapped, her voice piercing the room. "Jessi has been controlling Luca since the day they got married! She thinks she can dictate when I see my grandchild! I built this family, and I will not be pushed out by a girl who thinks she's too good for us!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Marino," David said quietly, closing his folder. "I have no further questions."
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I looked across the table at Luca. For the first time, he looked truly terrified. He wasn't looking at his lawyer or his mother. He was looking at me. And in my eyes, he found no anger, no sadness, and no remaining affection.
Just complete, unshakeable indifference.
