“It was never a family legacy.

It was my grandmother’s legacy.

You were spending it while you called me a temp.”

She had no answer for that.

But I looked at Leontyne, crying at her table in her gold gown, and I felt something I had not expected, which was not satisfaction but a kind of appalled clarity about what she had agreed to.

Her son had come to her and asked her to testify, under oath, that her daughter-in-law was mentally unstable — to stand in a courtroom and lie a sane woman into incapacity so that he could take her fortune.