“Then why did you make me sign a statement saying the fire was my fault?”
His attorney turned sharply toward him.
For the first time that morning, Richard Cole looked genuinely interested in the proceedings.
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“She was confused after surgery,” he said. “She was taking medication. She didn’t understand what she was signing.”
“No,” I replied. “I understood perfectly well that you were standing beside my hospital bed, telling me that if I didn’t sign, we would lose everything.”
I looked directly at him.
“What I didn’t understand was that you were already planning to make sure I lost everything anyway.”
Grace rose.
“Your Honor, we would like to submit additional evidence.”
She placed a thick blue folder on the judge’s desk.
Inside were medical records, payroll ledgers, old bank statements, insurance documents, tax filings, and signed affidavits from former employees who had watched me work at Hale’s for two decades.
