Forever Blake (Once Upon a Player Book 3) by Elena Matthews (motivational novels for students .txt) 📕

“I know this is a stupid question to ask, considering it’s you, but I have to ask anyway. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not.” She edges closer to me, another smile in place. “So, how did you meet her?”

“How about drinks tonight, and I promise to tell you everything? I really need to get prepped for this deposition.”

“Everything?”

I roll my eyes. “Nope.”

She scrunches up her face in distaste. “Spoilsport.”

“Now, go—before I fire you.” It’s an empty threat, one she hears almost every day from me.

She stands to her stiletto height. “Fine, I’m going, but we both know you couldn’t survive in this place without me.”

I chuckle under my breath as she breezes out of my office.

An hour later, I walk into the conference room with Reagan on one side and my client Hank Miller on the other.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I greet the opposition and his lawyer.

All three of us take a seat. I unbutton my jacket, making myself comfortable.

“I didn’t realize depositions required a paralegal.”

You can always pinpoint a dickhead lawyer when he begins his meetings with sarcasm.

“Why would you assume my intern here was a paralegal and not a lawyer? Do you believe only men can be lawyers, or were you just trying to assert your power by insulting the only female in the room?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed.”

Bullshit.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my intern here will be heading to Harvard in the fall for law school. What law school did you go to?”

He presses his lips together, his nostrils flaring. “Look, I wasn’t trying to insult anyone. Can we please proceed with the deposition?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Reaching over to the video camera in the center of the conference table, I switch it on before positioning it in the direction of the guy and his lawyer.

“Jeffrey Sher, are you aware why we have called this deposition?”

“Yes. Hank believes I’ve been laundering money, which is ridiculous.”

“Well, I have documents here that show me that it isn’t ridiculous and that Mr. Miller’s concern was well founded. For the benefit of the camera, I am handing copies of money laundering proof to the attorney.”

I slip the folder over to him, and he opens it, his eyes focused on the document.

“All I see is money being deposited. I don’t see anything unusual.”

“I know not all lawyers are good at math, but come on. It’s blatantly obvious.”

“If you want to accuse my client of money laundering, I need more than just a bank statement as proof,” he tells me, sliding it back to me with disregard. “This would just get laughed at by any judge.”

I slide the folder back to him. “Take another look. This is an elite construction company who creates perfection for wealthy people. You know, full-house renovations, kitchen renovations, extensions, brand-new houses. So, you can see a lot of deposits are for hundreds of thousands, which makes sense. However, what doesn’t make sense are the small deposits between five and ten grand every day, dated not long after my client began his cancer treatment. That is suspicious, especially since the cheapest thing they offer is for around forty thousand. So, does your client care to explain that?”

“Well, some clients prefer to pay in installments,” Jeffrey offers.

“Yet that was never approved by your business partner. Also, aren’t installments made on a monthly basis? These deposits are being made daily.”

“The reason I never ran it by Hank was because he was going through enough with chemo treatment, and it felt like a good opportunity to introduce payment plans for our clients,” Mr. Sher says.

“Your clientele are wealthy people; they don’t need credit installments, and according to your contract, you don’t offer credit. So, do you care to explain the real reason?”

“That is the truth.”

“Okay, if that’s the truth, why are none of the bank accounts from the smaller deposits traceable?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” the lawyer pipes up when Jeffrey appears to be lost for words.

“Except it does. When you find money deposits from untraceable accounts, it usually means it’s an offshore account, and most offshore accounts are used for one of two things. Tax evasion or money laundering.” I focus my attention on Jeffrey. “So, how about you cut the bullshit and just admit the obvious?”

When he remains silent, I go in for the jugular. “Look, we already know you’re laundering money, Mr. Sher. So, why don’t you make life easier on yourself and tell us where the dirty money is coming from?”

He just looks at his lawyer, worry lines etched under his eyes.

“Mr. Sher, if you tell us where the money is coming from, I guarantee a judge would go a lot easier on you. It’s big-time criminals they really want, not the small-time business owners wanting to earn a little extra on the side. So, are you going to tell me where it’s coming from, or will I see you in court? I mean, I’m happy either way. My intern would love the opportunity to sit in while a jury sends you to prison for laundering money through my client’s company. Talk about a great work experience, huh?”

I sit back with an amused smile as Jeffrey whispers in his lawyer’s ear. He pulls back a moment later, and the attorney nods his head.

“I would like to invoke my Fifth Amendment right.”

Huh, he wants to plead the Fifth. In other words, he’s guilty as fuck.

Reaching over, I switch off the camera. “Okay, we will see you in court.” I stand and button up my jacket with Hank and Reagan following suit. “Until then, Mr. Sher.”

We exit the conference room while my assistant enters to escort them both out of the building. Reagan and I walk Hank to the lobby while discussing what comes next. Once we bid him good-bye at the elevators, Reagan and I return to my office.

“So, how was that for your first deposition?” I ask Reagan as we enter my office.

She bites down on