No.

I was not making it worse.

He was making it, and calling it mine.

Chapter 9 — An Heir Waiting for a Funeral

“And your shoulder?” the judge asked, because Michael’s petition had also documented an injury to my shoulder, presented, like the wrist, as evidence of a woman falling and stumbling her way toward incapacity.

“That happened another day,” I said, and I played the second clip.

On the screen, Michael was standing in my hallway, physically blocking the doorway to my late husband’s study, refusing to let me pass.