The deposition room was beige and windowless and smelled like recycled air and coffee from a machine in the hall.
Mia sat on one side of the long table with Patricia to her left and a glass of water she had not touched. Across from her sat EchoTech's lead attorney — a man named Warren Fisk, late fifties, the kind of polished that comes from decades of being the most expensive person in every room he entered. He had two associates flanking him and a legal pad he didn't appear to need.
Ethan was not there. His attorneys had argued successfully that his presence would be prejudicial in the deposition phase. Mia had expected this. She had prepared for his absence the way you prepare for weather — you don't stop the walk, you just dress for it.
Fisk began at 9:03 a.m.
He was good. She had b
