In the settlement, Bryce had demanded sole possession of the residence and the vehicle, and I had agreed without a flicker, because I knew what he did not: that neither was his to be given.

His own lawyer had asked, weeks earlier, for copies of the deeds and titles.

Bryce had waved it off.

He didn’t want to waste his valuable time, he’d said, on administrative paperwork.

To a man like Bryce, having lived in a place for years was the same thing as owning it.

I picked up.

“What did you do?” he shouted.

“Nothing, Bryce.”