“You haven’t done anything wrong, Mariana,” Frank said.

“You carried the weight until they tried to shut you out of your own property.”

I took the red folder, left the law office, and rode the elevator down to the underground parking garage.

The air in the concrete garage was cold and smelled of wet salt and exhaust.

I unlocked my sedan, got into the driver’s seat, and flipped down the visor mirror.

The overhead dome light shone on the smooth surface of my scalp.