“I didn’t grant you control of anything,” I said.

“That signature was taken while you were telling this whole room I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.” Across the garden, the notary — who was, of course, a guest — went pale and turned toward the door, and found two officials already standing in it.

Emiliano looked around the room and finally understood what it was.

Not a gala.

A trap.

“You planned all this,” he said.