“Let him keep the house for now,” Martha said, opening the door to Samuel Reed’s office.

“Let him think he’s won every single physical asset.”

As we walked out into the cold morning drizzle, I saw Julian’s white work truck idling by the corner traffic light two blocks down.

He was sitting in the driver’s seat in his good navy suit, staring toward the bank entrance with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

Next to him in the passenger seat sat Clara Sterling, her small interior design sample bag on her lap.

I pulled my collar close around my neck and kept my head down, walking straight to Martha’s sedan without looking up.