I stopped.
The room was silent.
I folded the letter carefully.
Then I said, “That’s all, Your Honor.”
Judge Morrison gave me a moment before speaking.
“Thank you, Ms. Parker.”
I returned to my seat.
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I didn’t look at my parents.
I placed the letter in its sleeve and rested my hands on top of the folder.
For the first time since Nana died, I felt as if I’d done something for her instead of simply reacting to what everyone else wanted.
I’d made sure her intentions were heard.
Whitman delivered his closing argument.
He was more restrained than he’d been that morning.
He emphasized that large, unexpected changes in estate plans deserved scrutiny.
He argued that Nana’s physical decline, my frequent presence, and the family’s strained relationships created circumstances the court should examine carefully.
He acknowledged that my professional records contradicted portions of my parents’ description.
