"Fabricated," James told his attorney quietly. "Or taken out of context."
Mr. Davis introduced records of his frequent contact with Amanda outside of office hours.
"We were coworkers working on a high-stakes merger. Nothing more," James whispered smoothly.
Mr. Davis brought up notable travel inconsistencies.
"Business-related route changes," James scoffed softly.
Then, Mr. Davis shifted to the financial records. He presented the extensive transfers of marital funds.
James’s attorney stood up, arguing eloquently that Olivia had signed the transfer documents of her own free will, and whatever she regretted now in the bitter aftermath of the separation did not constitute fraud. James’s lawyer masterfully framed everything as standard marital conflict being grossly exaggerated after Olivia had become emotionally entangled with Leo Maddox.
James felt a surge of triumphant pride. They were winning.
Then, Mr. Davis brought out the heavy artillery.
He introduced a sworn video deposition from a former night manager at a luxury boutique hotel in Asheville. The manager clearly identified James and Amanda from a series of dates, explicitly noting that Amanda had worn an ill-fitting blonde wig, and James had dressed down in a baseball cap. The manager vividly remembered them because James had paid a premium in cash to ensure their names were left off the primary registry and had demanded access to the private service elevator.
James felt the first, terrifying crack in his armor.
Before his attorney could fully object to the deposition, Mr. Davis introduced the next piece of evidence.
It was a video file, sent securely to Olivia’s legal team just forty-eight hours ago.
The screens in the hearing room flickered to life. Amanda’s face appeared. She looked pale, her head wrapped tightly in a silk scarf.
In the video, Amanda explicitly claimed that James had coerced her into the affair. She stated that because he was her superior at the firm, he had controlled the situation, pressured her constantly, and used his executive position to demand her compliance. She chillingly claimed that some of the cruel text messages regarding Olivia were part of a degrading "roleplay" James had demanded of her, and were not sincere statements.
James felt a rush of pure, blinding rage.
He wasn't furious because Amanda was an innocent victim—she was a vicious, willing participant from day one. He was enraged because Amanda was betraying him before he hadthe chance to officially betray her. She was throwing him under the bus to save her own lucrative career. She had turned on him.
As the video played, James suddenly felt a strange sensation in his throat.
It felt incredibly tight.
He swallowed hard, shifting in his heavy leather chair. A sudden, searing heat bloomed in his stomach, spreading rapidly upward. His heart gave a hard, violent thump against his ribs, accelerating into a rapid, frantic rhythm.
His palms began to sweat, making his hands slip against the polished mahogany table.
His breathing became shallow. He couldn't seem to pull enough air into his lungs.
In about twenty minutes, your throat will tighten, your stomach will burn, and your heart will start pounding...
Panic, sharp and absolute, pierced James’s mind. Was it a physical reaction to the poison? Was it a panic attack?
James gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he tried to remain composed. His lawyer glanced over, noticing his pale, sweating face, and whispered urgently for him to stay calm.
The judge peered over his glasses, noting James’s visible distress, but continued the proceeding when James managed a tight, jerky nod to indicate he was fine.
Mr. Davis pressed into the financial issue. He brought up the specific documents Olivia had signed, demanding to know the exact context under which James had presented them.
James opened his mouth to deliver his practiced denial.
His pulse spiked, a sudden surge of adrenaline roaring in his ears.
If you lie on the stand, your blood pressure will spike, and the toxin will paralyze your breathing.
