They saw me sitting near the courtroom doors.
“You can still settle,” my father said with a smug smile. “Give us eighty percent. Keep the rest as a little payment for whatever caretaking you claim you did. We’ll drop the fraud charges. Otherwise, we ruin you in there.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said.
Mr. Sterling stepped forward and looked me over.
“Ms. Vance, I hear you have no attorney. Representing yourself in a probate case like this is a terrible idea. I’ll destroy you in court. The judge won’t have patience for an amateur.”
I looked at him. His suit was expensive, but his briefcase was a mess, with papers sticking out at odd angles. There was a coffee stain on his cuff.
Sloppy.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said.
My mother scoffed.
“She’s always been stubborn. And foolish. Come on, Robert. Let the judge teach her where she belongs.”
