And then I told him something that Bruno and his parents, in their arrogance, had completely forgotten.

Five years earlier, when Indigo’s business had failed and he had come within weeks of losing that gated-suburb house to a defaulted commercial loan, it had been me who stepped in and covered nearly all of the mortgage payments to save it.

And I, being an accountant, being careful, being exactly the sort of woman my grandmother had raised, had kept everything.

Every wire-transfer receipt.