Chapter 8 - The Judge's Testimony
Mr. Henderson held a thick folder under his arm, his weathered face solemn beneath his white hair. He wore a heavy wool jacket over his pajamas, having seen the lights on in the kitchen and heard the screaming from across the driveway.
"Good evening, Clara. Julian," the old judge said, stepping into the warm kitchen. "I see you're making your usual affectionate family visit."
Clara straightened up, trying frantically to compose herself. "Judge Henderson... this is a private family matter. Mabel is trying to defraud my mother's estate."
"Defraud?" Mr. Henderson let out a soft, dry laugh. He walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down with a heavy sigh. "Clara, I was sitting right beside Fiona seven years ago when she drafted that document with Arthur Vance, the attorney."
Clara went dead silent.
"Fiona called me to her bedroom," the judge continued, his calm, authoritative voice filling the room. "She asked me to act as an independent witness. She was as sharp as a tack that day. She sat right up in bed and told us, word for word: 'My children have taken everything I had while I was strong enough to work. Now that I am weak, only Mabel remains. If I leave them a penny, they will spend it on frivolous nonsense and forget where I am buried.'"
He looked directly at Julian, whose face had turned ash-grey.
"She specifically requested that an affidavit of sanity be executed by two independent doctors," Judge Henderson added, opening his folder and laying a certified copy of the medical evaluation on the table. "I have the duplicate right here. Your mother made sure there wasn't a single loophole for you to claw through, Clara."
Clara stared at the documents, her lips trembling with impotent rage. "She... she couldn't do that. It isn't fair!"
"Fair?" I asked, stepping forward until I was standing inches from her. "You think twelve years of total isolation, washing soiled linen, and sacrificing my own youth while you lived in luxury was fair? Your mother gave you your lives, Clara. She gave you your education. She gave you your freedom. What you gave her in return was abandonment."
Julian tugged at Clara's sleeve again, his voice trembling. "Clara... come on. It's over. The judge is here. We can't win this."
Clara looked at the gold, then at the judge, then at David—who refused to meet her eyes.
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"You're dead to me, David," Clara spat, her voice venomous. "Both of you."
She turned around, her heavy silk robe sweeping behind her, and marched out of the house, slamming the front door so hard the glass panes rattled in the frame. Julian followed her into the cold night without another word.
