Chapter 11 - Callan Under OathCallan entered the deposition room wearing dark glasses and a medical dressing along one side of his face.
The burns were healing.
Doctors expected significant recovery.
I was glad.
I did not want him permanently harmed.
I also did not want him back.
He looked at me when he entered.
I looked at Evelyn.
Callan’s attorney began with objections.
Then Evelyn started asking questions.
“Mr. Harrington, did you strike your wife on August second?”
Callan shifted in his chair.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was being disrespectful.”
Evelyn remained calm.
“To whom?”
“My mother.”
“My sister.”
“Did either woman face physical danger from Anastasia?”
“No.”
“Did Anastasia threaten them?”
“No.”
“Then why did you strike her?”
Callan looked toward me.
“I lost control.”
Those three words mattered more than every apology he had sent.
Not she provoked me.
Not I was confused.
I lost control.
Evelyn continued.
“After striking her, did you grab her wrist?”
“I don’t remember.”
She played the footage.
Callan watched himself grab me.
His face changed.
“Does that refresh your memory?”
“Yes.”
“Did Anastasia lift the pan?”
“No.”
“Did she throw oil at you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you initially support statements suggesting she intentionally injured you?”
Callan hesitated.
“My mother told me that was what happened.”
“You had been present.”
“I was hurt.”
“Did you contact Anastasia before making that accusation?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Silence.
Evelyn leaned closer.
“Because you believed your mother automatically?”
Callan’s attorney objected.
Evelyn rephrased.
“Did you consider that your mother could be lying?”
“No.”
Then came the morning phone call.
Evelyn placed the transcript in front of him.
“Did your mother call you at 9:17 AM?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Callan rubbed his hands together.
“She said Anastasia needed to learn to respect the family.”
“What else?”
“She said Brooklyn was going to confront her.”
My stomach tightened.
Evelyn’s voice sharpened.
“You knew there would be a confrontation?”
“I didn’t know what they were planning.”
“Did you warn your wife?”
“No.”
“Did you ask your mother to stop?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Callan stared at the table.
“I thought Anastasia should try harder.”
Something inside me finally stopped hurting.
Not because his answer was kind.
Because it was clear.
Then Evelyn brought out the property agreement.
“Did you upload this document from your business account?”
Callan went still.
His attorney whispered to him.
Callan answered.
“Yes.”
“Did Anastasia sign it?”
“I thought she had.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“My mother.”
I almost laughed.
Again.
Always Melissa.
Evelyn asked the next question slowly.
“Did you ever ask your wife whether this was her signature?”
“No.”
“Did you benefit financially from the agreement?”
Callan closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
Evelyn sat back.
“No further questions for now.”
Callan finally looked at me.
His expression begged for something.
Understanding.
Forgiveness.
Maybe pity.
I gave him none.
May you like
He had spent our entire relationship asking me to understand everyone except myself.
That part of my life was over.
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