“My shares were never on the table.

The apartment and the joint account divide by law.

And you’ll answer for what you did.” His composure cracked; his fist came down on the table hard enough to rattle the glasses.

“You lied to me for three years!

If I’d known you were rich, I’d never have let my mother treat you that way!” And there, at last, was the whole man in one sentence.

“You’re not angry that I hid poverty from you,” I said.