He shoved the unsigned quitclaim deed into his jacket pocket and walked down the porch steps without looking back.

His car door slammed before I could even lift my tea mug off the wooden table.

By nine o’clock the next morning, I was sitting across from Rachel Kim in her windowless conference room.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly in the quiet of the law office.

Rachel lined up three white folders into a perfect stack before she spoke.

She took a black microfiber cloth from her jacket pocket and slowly cleaned her reading glasses.