— “No. My grandparents paid for everything. Clothes, school supplies, college—all of it. Diane and Steve took money from my grandfather, but they never gave anything back.”
Andrew Vance walked me through my entire childhood. Every missed event, every broken promise, every unanswered call. That Christmas Diane spent on her phone. That Father’s Day Steve didn’t answer for three days. I spoke in a flat, factual tone. I wasn’t asking for pity. I was establishing a pattern.
— “When your grandmother died, what happened?”
— “I took a semester off from law school to be with Grandpa. He was devastated. Fifty years of marriage. I couldn’t leave him alone.”
— “Did your mother help?”
— “She came to the funeral and left immediately. She didn’t help with the arrangements, didn’t visit him afterward. I moved back home for six months to make sure he was okay.”
— “And after that, did you grow even closer?”
— “Yes. I called every day, visited every Sunday for dinner. When he retired, we spent even more time together. He was my mentor. He taught me everything I know about the law. He was my grandfather and my best friend.”
My voice hitched slightly. I cleared my throat.
— “When did you find out about the will?”
— “At the reading, a week after he died. I was in shock. I expected a few personal items. I had no idea he had those savings. And I certainly didn’t know he planned to leave it all to me.”
— “Did you ever discuss the will with him?”
— “Never. He never told me his plans. I think he wanted me to love him without any ulterior motives. Which I did.”
— “What would you say to the accusation that you manipulated him?”
I looked directly at my mother.
— “I was there for thirty-two years. I didn’t manipulate him. I loved him. Those are different things.”
Andrew Vance sat down. Now it was Palmer’s turn for cross-examination. He stood up slowly, looking like he’d found a weak spot.
— “Ms. Sterling, you claim you rarely saw your parents. Why didn’t you take more initiative to reach out to them?”
— “For most of that time, I was a child,” I replied calmly. “Children don’t organize visits. Parents do.”
— “But as an adult…”
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