His lawyer, a young associate from a small firm near the courthouse, rested his hands on an empty yellow pad.

Daniel leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mariana, this is absurd.

We can work out an allowance for your personal spending without turning a simple misunderstanding into a circus.”

“This isn’t a negotiation over an allowance,” Frank said, coming around the head of the table.

He set a stack of paper three inches thick right in front of Daniel.

The top sheet showed forty-eight straight months of mortgage statements stamped with red bank verification seals.