Chapter 88 — Diana Testifies
Diana walked into court at 10:03, and Victor finally looked smaller than his chair. Not physically. He was still broad-shouldered on the video screen, still dressed like authority.
But Diana had brought something no barrister could polish.
She had brought memory, and memory is terrifying when it has kept receipts. Years.
She took the oath without trembling. Her solicitor sat behind her. I sat two rows back with Marcus.
The judge asked her to speak clearly. Diana nodded. “I have been quiet for a long time, Your Honour. I can do that.”
A few people looked down.
Marcus began gently. Marriage date. Shared homes. Access to household records. The old rhythm of a life Victor had treated as background. Then the room darkened by degrees.
Transfers she had been told were temporary.
Loans that never returned. Entities described as administrative.
Signatures requested during dinner and illness.
Victor’s name appearing beside companies she was told did not matter. Ryan’s name appearing where a husband’s employee should not have been.
Every entry made the room less interested in Victor’s dignity. Diana did not cry.
That made it worse for Victor.
Tears can be dismissed as weakness. Clarity has fewer handles. Marcus showed her the ledgers from the folder she had brought. “Do you recognise this handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“Whose is it?” “Victor’s.”
The word left her mouth cleanly.
The screen showed Victor blinking once. Marcus continued. “What did you understand this note to mean?”
“That funds were moved from marital structures into entities he controlled indirectly.”
“And were you told?” “No.”
“Did you consent?” “No.”
A simple answer can split a long marriage in half.
Victor’s barrister stood for cross-examination. This time he was careful. “Mrs Lang, you remained married to Mr Lang for many years.”
“Yes.”
“You benefited from his success.” “I lived inside it,” she said. “That is not always the same as benefiting.”
The barrister paused. He had expected bitterness.
Diana gave him architecture. He tried another path. “You are aligned with Ms Hart.”
“I am aligned with the documents.”
“Do you wish to punish your husband?” Diana looked at Victor’s face on the screen.
For a moment, the whole room leaned into the silence.
“No,” she said. “I am here because I am finished being used as proof that nothing happened.” Even the clerk stopped moving.
Marcus did not smile. He merely wrote. That sentence would travel.
The judge allowed questions on the forged memo. Diana confirmed she had never seen it, heard it discussed, or found it in the claimed archive boxes.
Then she added, “Victor kept real records because he trusted control more than secrecy.” Victor’s barrister objected. The judge allowed the answer to stand as her understanding.
Victor looked away then.
Not from the judge. From Diana.
That was the first honest thing he had done all morning.
By afternoon, her testimony gave the numbers a face, the marriage a ledger, and the board no comfortable excuse. During the break, Diana and I stood by the corridor window.
She looked almost translucent.
“You were magnificent,” I said. “I was accurate.”
“That is better.” She gave a small laugh. “He used to tell me accuracy was unattractive.”
“He would.”
Diana looked towards the courtroom doors. “I thought I would feel free.” “Do you?”
“Not yet.” She touched the folder in her hands. “But I feel less rented.”
At 4:12, the board’s legal observer left for the acquisition meeting. At 4:40, Margaret Hales requested the transcript.
At 5:03, Marcus’s phone lit up.
The two battles had finally touched. The acquisition vote had opened.
Diana saw my face. “Go,” she said.
I hesitated. She straightened. “I did not testify so you could miss the end.”
I left court with Marcus beside me.
Behind us, Diana walked back into the room alone. Ahead of us, Victor’s company waited to change hands.