Chapter 3 - The House of Secrets
The next morning, I didn't go back to the house to beg. I went to the courthouse.
I walked past the clerk’s desk with the confidence of a woman who had nothing left to lose. I filed for an emergency injunction, armed with the digital copies of the recorded conversations and the digital backup of my grandfather’s original will—a document they thought had burned in the basement fire three years ago, but one I had scanned and uploaded to a secure server the night before the flames started.
I knew the attorney who handled our family affairs, Mr. Henderson. He was an honest man, the kind who despised being lied to. I showed him the evidence.
"Summer," he said, his face pale as he read the transcriptions. "If this is true, your brother hasn't just committed fraud. He’s committed perjury. He s
igned an affidavit claiming you had no interest in the property."
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"It's all there, Mr. Henderson. Every word."
"Then we don't just file an injunction," he said, his eyes narrowing. "We file a motion to seize."
