“Yes,” my mother said. “She told me she would find something to ruin them, even if she had to invent it.”

“She has always suffered from resentment toward those of our social standing,” she added.

I felt Aaron stiffen beside me in his chair.

I looked at my father, who was sitting in the front row of the gallery, his face expressionless as he nodded.

They were sacrificing me to keep their invitations, their reputation, their quiet life.

“She has stolen documents from our home as well,” my mother continued, her voice trembling slightly.

“We are deeply embarrassed by her actions, and we fear for her mental health.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mercer,” Vance said, offering her a sympathetic nod.

Judge Vane looked down at me, his expression hardening.

“Ms. Mercer, do you have any response to your own mother’s testimony?” the judge asked.

The silence in the courtroom was absolute.

I looked at the judge, then at my mother, who refused to meet my eyes as she stepped down from the stand.

“My mother’s testimony does not change the physical facts of the case, Your Honor,” I said.