“Mrs. Parker, did that incident cause the wrist injury?”
“Yes.”
“And your shoulder?”
“That happened another day.”
I played the second clip.
Michael was blocking the hallway while I tried to reach Henry’s study.
“Where is the original trust?” he demanded.
“That is none of your business.”
“I’m your son.”
“You’re also forty-four years old. Stop acting like an heir waiting for a funeral.”
He pushed me.
It was not a theatrical shove.
It did not send me flying.
It was simply hard enough for my shoulder to strike the wall.
Then Michael immediately said:
“Mom, why did you step backward like that?”
That sentence mattered.
Before I had even regained my balance, he had started building his defense.
Gregory understood it.
So did the judge.
“Your Honor,” Gregory said, “I need a recess to speak privately with my client.”
“Not yet.”
Judge Bennett looked at the bruise above my eyebrow.
