I set it on the desk beside the unsigned quitclaim.

Brandon had cut off my corporate allowance.

He was applying for a commercial loan on corporate property.

His wife was insisting I pay upkeep on a house my own company owned outright.

I sat down in the leather chair at the desk.

The brass lamp hummed in the silent room.

I held the original 2010 deed in my right hand and stared at the unsigned draft.

When I arrived at nine the next morning, the mahogany table in Margaret’s office was buried in blue file folders.