He wasn’t asking for security.

He was asking for a robbery.

He wanted the deed to the estate my grandmother left me. He wanted the company I built from the ground up while he played golf.

I looked down at the papers. They were drafted hastily, probably by that bus-bench lawyer he played poker with. Transfer of deed. Assignment of equity. The words swam before my eyes.

He really thought he had me cornered. He thought I was the same woman who had nodded and smiled for four years to keep the peace. He thought I was afraid of losing him.

I looked at him. Really looked at him.