I asked my husband not to tell his mother we were trying for a baby — then she handed me a bag and said, "You'll need these soon."

Grace filed the challenge on a Wednesday.

The forensic document examiner submitted her report eleven days later.

The signatures did not match.

The report was fourteen pages long and I read every word of it.

The examiner had compared pen pressure, letter formation, the angle of the cross strokes on the letter H.

She had compared it against three other documents Helen Marsh had signed in the same year.

Her conclusion was unambiguous.

The signature on the will Diane had presented was not Helen Marsh's signature.

Diane's attorney filed two motions to delay the hearing.

Both were denied.

On the morning of the hearing, Ethan and I drove to the courthouse together.

Patricia flew in the night before.

I met her for the first time in the hotel lobby — a woman in her early sixties with Ethan's same eyes and a careful, watchful way of holding herself, like someone who had learned not to expect good news.

She shook my hand.

"Thank you," she said.

"For not letting him talk himself out of it."

"He didn't need much convincing."

She looked at Ethan.

Something passed between them — not quite a smile.

Something older than that.

Inside the courtroom, Diane sat at the opposite table in a grey suit, her attorney beside her.

She didn't look at us when we came in.

The hearing lasted most of the morning.

Grace presented the original will, the capacity letter, the forensic report, the intercepted letter, and the camera footage.

She played thirty seconds of the audio recording — the part where Diane said *I did what I did for you* — and let it sit in the room.

Diane's attorney argued that the original will had been superseded.

That the forensic report was inconclusive.

That the recording had been obtained improperly.

The judge listened to all of it.

Then she asked Diane one question directly.

"Mrs.

Calloway.

Did you return a letter addressed to your sister Patricia, sent by your father, in the final months of his life?"

Diane's attorney put a hand on her arm.

Diane looked at the judge.

"I don't recall," she said.

The judge looked at her for a moment.

Then she looked down at the documents in front of her.

"The court finds sufficient grounds to proceed with a full evidentiary hearing on the validity of the presented will.

The estate assets will be frozen pending that hearing.

Additionally, given the forensic findings regarding the witness signature, this matter is being referred to the district attorney's office for review."

Diane's attorney was already leaning in to speak to her.

Diane didn't move.

She was looking at Ethan.

He looked back at her.

He didn't look away.

She was the one who looked down first.

Outside the courthouse, Patricia stood on the steps and tilted her face up toward the sky for a moment.

Eyes closed.

The autumn sun was thin and pale and it caught the silver in her hair.

"He loved me," she said.

Not to us.

Just out loud.