Chapter 3 - THE SHOWDOWN IN THE PROBATE COURT
The Briar Ridge County Courthouse was dim, smelling of old paper, floor wax, and impending doom.
When I walked through the heavy oak doors the following morning, wearing a sharp black blazer and holding my father’s leather-bound journal, the courtroom already buzzed with tension. Calvin sat in the front row, wearing an expensive charcoal suit that shouted corporate success, with Tabitha draped over his arm like a trophy. She wore a smug, victorious grin, whispering something into Calvin's ear that made him chuckle softly.
A few rows back sat my brother Kyle. He looked pale, refusing to make eye contact with me, his eyes glued nervously to the polished mahogany floorboards.
As I took my seat at the opposing table beside Penelope, Tabitha leaned forward, her voice carrying sharply across the quiet room.
“Hope you brought your boxes, Paige,” Tabitha called out, her tone dripping with mock pity. “We’ve already called the moving company. Those ugly white roses are coming out by noon.”
I didn't turn around. I simply opened my folder, placed my father’s journal down, and waited.
A moment later, the bailiff’s voice boomed through the room. “All rise for the Honorable Judge Harrison.”
Judge Harrison, a no-nonsense magistrate with decades on the bench, sat down, adjusted his glasses, and looked over the array of legal paperwork spread across his desk.
“We are here for the reading and execution of the last will and testament of Everett Montgomery,” Judge Harrison announced, his deep voice echoing off the high ceilings. “Counsel for the petitioners, you may present your filings.”
Calvin’s high-priced attorney, a slick man with greased-back hair named Mr. Sterling, stood up smoothly. “Thank you, Your Honor. We are presenting the primary operating trust and estate assignment, duly executed by the late Mr. Montgomery, which designates his son Kyle Montgomery and associate Calvin Vance as joint executors, transferring the primary Briar Ridge estate to their management for immediate liquidation and distribution.”
Sterling handed up a thick binder of documents.
Judge Harrison flipped through the pages slowly. His thick eyebrows drew together in a heavy frown. He looked up from the bench, his gaze fixing sharply on Calvin and Sterling.
“Counsel,” the judge said, his voice dangerously low. “Are you entirely certain of the authenticity of these signatures?”
May you like
Sterling blinked, momentarily thrown off by the tone. “Of course, Your Honor. Standard probate procedure.”
“Is it?” Judge Harrison replied dryly. He picked up a red marker and tossed a separate folder down onto his desk. “Because Ms. Penelope Vance, representing the primary estate, filed an emergency motion for evidentiary fraud three hours ago. And she brought receipts.”
