By ten o’clock, I was sitting across from Rachel Kim in her strip mall office on Elm Street.

A small electric fan hummed on top of a filing cabinet, blowing a faint smell of paper and stale coffee across the room.

Rachel laid her palms flat on her desk and lined up her legal pad with the edge of the wood until the borders matched perfectly.

“If you step forward to claim that ticket today, Mr.

Reed’s attorney will argue it’s marital property,” she said.

Her voice was flat, clipped, and free of drama.