Grant submitted a statement saying I had “bragged” about hiding money from the family.
When Nora showed me the filings, I read every word in silence.
Then I asked, “Can we fight it?”
Nora’s smile was small but sharp. “We can do more than fight it.”
The hearing took place in Cook County probate court on a gray October morning. I wore a navy dress and my grandmother’s pearl earrings, the pair she had left me in a separate letter my mother never knew existed.
My parents sat across the aisle. My mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue before the judge entered. My father stared straight ahead. Grant looked bored until he noticed the court reporter typing every word.
Their lawyer argued that the trust had been created under suspicious circumstances. He said I had signed it on the same day as my birthday party, under emotional stress, with an attorney who had a personal relationship with my deceased grandfather.
