For the first time that morning, my father did not move. Only his jaw tightened.
Judge Halpern blinked. “You are what?”
I reached into my worn black tote, the one my brother had mocked in the hallway, and removed a sealed folder. “I am a certified forensic accountant. My mother retained me under attorney-client privilege through an outside law firm twelve days before her death. She suspected unauthorized transfers from company reserves.”
Dad laughed too loudly. “This is absurd. She’s making it up.”
“Then you won’t mind if I enter the engagement letter.”
His face changed, just a fraction. Enough.
My father’s attorney, Martin Krell, shot up. “Objection. This proceeding concerns guardianship of estate control, not corporate rumors.”
“Estate control?” I repeated. “My father petitioned to remove me as successor trustee by claiming I’m financially incompetent. His evidence includes a forged employment termination notice, altered bank summaries, and a psychiatric evaluation from a doctor I have never met.”
A murmur rolled through the courtroom.
My older brother, Caleb, leaned forward. “You’re insane.”
I turned just enough to see him. “You used Mom’s company card for two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in personal expenses, Caleb. I would sit very quietly.”
His face went white.
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