“Kelsey, please,” Trevor said, looking around the courtroom to see who was watching.

My father, Harold, was standing near the back row of the gallery.

He looked older than he had that morning.

His shoulders were slumped, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

He looked at Trevor, then at Kelsey, and finally his eyes landed on me.

There was no anger left in his face, only a hollow defeat.

Denise was crying quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

“Meredith,” my mother said, stepping toward the bar that separated the gallery from the counsel tables.

I stood my ground, keeping the table between us.

“We didn’t know,” she said, her voice shaking. “We had no idea Trevor did those things.”

“You wanted the money, Mom,” I said.

My voice was quiet, but it carried in the emptying room.

“You wanted the cabin sold so you could get your share.”

She looked down at her shoes, unable to meet my eyes.

Kelsey walked past Trevor without looking at him, her heels clicking loudly on the linoleum floor.

She stopped in front of me.