He scoffed. “We’ll see what the court says.”
Courtroom 4B was already filling when I walked in. The benches creaked softly as people settled, coats rustling, whispers traveling like static through the room. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, layered with something sharper, anxiety maybe.
Glenn was waiting at the defense table, papers neatly arranged, his posture calm. When he saw me, he nodded once, a quiet acknowledgment that steadied my breathing.
Across the aisle sat Vance Clydesdale.
He was exactly as advertised.
Silver hair combed back with surgical precision. Suit tailored to perfection. Movements economical, controlled. He flipped through documents with the confidence of someone who had done this hundreds of times and rarely lost.
When his eyes flicked up to meet mine, he smiled.
It wasn’t friendly.
My parents sat behind him, close enough to touch his shoulder if they wanted reassurance. Diana leaned forward, whispering something into his ear. Mark stared straight ahead, jaw tight, like a man bracing for impact but convinced he would win.
“All rise,” the bailiff called.
The room stood as one as Judge Malcolm Reyes entered and took his seat behind the bench. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his expression carved into something unreadable. When he sat, the room seemed to shrink slightly, like the air itself had learned to behave.
Everyone sat.
Judge Reyes adjusted his glasses and opened the file in front of him. He didn’t look up immediately. He read. Slowly. Thoroughly.
When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and steady. “This court will hear the matter of the Estate of Richard Ashford. Plaintiffs allege lack of testamentary capacity and undue influence. Counsel, you may proceed.”
Clydesdale rose smoothly, buttoning his jacket as if the movement itself were part of the performance.
“Your Honor,” he began, pacing slowly before the bench, “this case is about betrayal. About a respected businessman in his final years, suffering from cognitive decline, who was isolated from his loving children and exploited by the one person he trusted.”
He gestured toward me without looking at me directly, as if I were an exhibit rather than a person.
“The defendant would like you to believe this was generosity. But we will show that it was manipulation. That this young man inserted himself into Richard Ashford’s daily life, controlled access, and used emotional dependency to influence the contents of a will worth millions.”
Diana dabbed at her eyes. Mark shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief that this even needed to be said.
Clydesdale continued, voice smooth and relentless. “We will present evidence of financial instability on the part of the defendant. Student loans. Periods of unemployment. Motive is clear. Opportunity is clear. And the result speaks for itself.”
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