I set the pages directly in front of the court clerk.

“Both independent neurologists certified that Victor Moreno was fully competent, oriented, and completely capable of managing his legal affairs,” I said.

Julian’s lawyer glanced at the pages, his mouth settling into a narrow line.

“And who requested those evaluations, Miss Moreno?” he asked.

“Dad requested them himself,” I said.

“Because he knew what Julian was doing.”

Julian shifted in his chair, his face red above his white collar.

“Your father was eighty-one years old and easily influenced by whoever was in the house,” the lawyer said, raising his voice slightly.