Chapter 11 - UNDER OATH
Maya worked through the night assembling records.
We found photographs showing my old phone had been destroyed in the accident that injured my wrist.
The disputed message appeared to originate from a number that was not mine.
A phone-company archive might establish more, but it would take time to obtain.
The court hearing was limited.
It was not a trial over Rose's entire estate or my father's criminal case.
It was a request to prevent records from disappearing while the dispute was investigated.
I repeated that to myself in the hallway outside the courtroom.
My mother arrived in cream silk, carrying a handbag I had bought for her birthday.
She looked at me as if I were a stain someone had failed to remove.
You can still stop this, she whispered.
I asked whether she had sent the hotel threats.
She looked away.
Then she said Rose had never understood how difficult my father had worked.
The judge called the matter before I could answer.
Maya presented the conflicting estate documents and explained why the bank and company records should be preserved.
Richard's attorney argued that I was using litigation to punish my parents after a public family dispute.
I felt every eye turn toward me.
Maya did not react.
She asked the court to consider the documents rather than the insults.
The judge ordered specified records preserved and set a further hearing for the contested issues.
It was a narrow order, not a victory on every claim.
But it meant the questions could no longer be dismissed as my bad attitude.
Outside, reporters were waiting.
Someone had tipped them off.
My father stood behind his lawyer and announced that he loved both his daughters equally.
I nearly laughed.
The lie was so familiar that it felt like hearing an old song.
A reporter asked about the slap.
His lawyer said the matter was pending and declined further comment.
I made no speech.
I walked to Maya's car.
As she opened the door, her phone rang.
She listened for a moment, then covered the receiver.
The bank has located the box, she said.
And there's a problem.
What problem?
Its access log shows that someone opened it three days after your grandmother died.
I asked who.
Maya's eyes stayed on mine.
May you like
According to the log, Olivia, it was you.
