“So you had complete access to his personal study and his filing drawers while your brother was working?”

“I had access to his kitchen and his prescription bottles,” I said.

“Isn’t it possible that your father was confused in those final months, Miss Moreno?” the lawyer asked.

“That he misremembered what he gave to his son?”

I reached down into the folder Samuel had set on the witness table beside me.

I pulled out two white medical forms stamped with the seal of Oak Ridge Medical Center.

“These are two independent medical capacity evaluations completed six weeks apart while Dad was receiving treatment,” I said.