Through the windows, you could see the Rockies, snow-covered peaks glowing in the morning sun, indifferent to the carnage about to happen inside.
Preston arrived in a charcoal suit with his own attorney, a woman named Diane Kelso, who had the sharp, predatory look of someone who bills $800 an hour.
He didn't look at me, not once.
The court reporter, a tiny woman with a stenograph machine that clicked like nervous insects, swore him in.
Lydia started gentle.
Name, address, occupation.
Preston answered in a bored monotone like he'd done this a hundred times.
Probably had.
"Mr. Whitmore, do you recognize this email?"
Lydia slid a copy across the table. The February 18th smoking gun.
Preston glanced at it.
"I do."
"Did you write it?"
"Yes."
"So you knew in February of 2022 that Dakota Flint was the legal owner of the Old Mill Road property."
Diane Kelso leaned forward.
"Don't answer that."
Lydia smiled.
"The court granted a discovery order. He has to answer."
Preston shifted.
"I knew someone named Flint was listed in county records, but our title company advised us the property was effectively abandoned."
"Under which title company?"
"Rocky Mountain Title Group."
Lydia made a note.
I watched Preston's jaw tighten.
He knew what was coming.
She was going to depose the title company next, and they'd either confirm his lie or throw him under the bus to save their license.
She asked 50 more questions, each one tightening the noose.
By 11:00 a.m., Preston was sweating through his shirt.
By noon, he'd contradicted himself four times.
When Lydia finally said, "No further questions," he practically sprinted out of the room.
Diane Kelso stayed behind.
She looked at Lydia with something like professional respect.
"Your client should settle," she said quietly.
"Your client should have thought of that before committing fraud."
"Name a number."
Lydia closed her notebook.
"$10 million. Plus, he resigns from every corporate board, dissolves Ridgeline Capital, and personally finances the transfer of all 96 homes to their current residents at cost. Oh, and a written apology."
Diane laughed, short and bitter.