He leaned back in his chair. “We take them to court.”
What followed felt like a whirlwind.
Mr. Leary brought in handwriting experts, document analysts, and even a forensic accountant. The signature on the forged will didn’t match Grandma’s, and the writing style was clearly different.
Even worse, bank records revealed suspicious payments made to the lawyer who had handled the estate. They were hefty deposits with no clear origin.
The trial took months. Karen walked into court with her usual smugness, dressed in designer clothes and barely glancing at us.
But as the evidence was laid out, piece by piece, her confidence began to crack.
I’ll never forget the look on her face when the judge announced that the original will was valid and legally binding.
The house, our house, was rightfully ours again. Not only that, but the judge ordered Karen to pay damages.
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