A flush climbed his neck.
He asked whether Grandma had ever told me to help Ashley.
“She told both of us to help each other when help was genuinely needed.”
“And yet you refused to share the villa.”
“I refused to surrender property I bought because my sister demanded it.”
Ashley made an angry sound under her breath.
The judge looked toward her.
“You will remain quiet while the witness is speaking.”
The attorney returned to the estate money, but the report answered each question before he finished asking it.
Dates matched.
Account numbers matched.
Tax filings matched.
The closing company had verified the source of funds before accepting them.
Finally, he sat down.
Ashley still looked frightened, but not defeated.
She leaned toward Brent again, and he whispered into her ear with the confidence of someone who believed the worst evidence had already been revealed.
It had not.
Elena stood.
“Your Honor, the source-of-funds analysis establishes that the defendant purchased the property independently.
But the final section addresses the plaintiffs’ motive and their prior knowledge.”
Brent stopped whispering.
His attorney rose so quickly that his chair rolled backward.
“Objection.
Motive is irrelevant to title.”
“It is relevant to sanctions, credibility, and the knowingly false statements submitted to this court,” Elena said.
The judge looked down at the report.
“I will allow limited questioning.”
Elena called Ashley back to the stand.
My sister walked past me without turning her head.
Her shoulders were rigid beneath her cream blazer.
Elena waited until Ashley had been sworn in again.
“When did you first decide the villa belonged to you?”
“When I realized Mandy had used family money.”
“What caused that realization?”
“Brent and I reviewed Grandma’s estate.”
“Did you review the estate attorney’s final accounting?”
Ashley hesitated.
“Not personally.”
“Did you review Mandy’s bank statements?”
“No.”
“Her business records?”
“No.”
“Her closing documents?”
“No.”
Elena stepped closer.
“So your conclusion was not based on any financial record.”
“It was obvious,” Ashley said.
“Mandy could never afford a place like that without Grandma’s money.”
I felt the insult, but it no longer cut the way it had in my living room.
In court, surrounded by records she had refused to examine, Ashley’s contempt sounded less like authority and more like desperation.
Elena placed a copy of an email on the evidence screen.
The text had been enlarged for the court, though the public gallery could not read it clearly from where they sat.
“Do you recognize this message?”
Ashley’s face changed.
“I don’t remember.”
“It was sent from your account to Brent on March third, seven weeks before you confronted Mandy at the villa.”
