My Husband Sold My Two Million Dollar Land For Five Dollars To His Girlfriend
The old brass padlock was heavy in my hand, its key slot filled with the red dirt of the valley. I inserted the key, turned it until the latch popped open, and then snapped the padlock shut over the overlapping links of the chain.
The steel chain clicked shut, and for the first time, I held the only key.
Marcus Fitzgerald polished his wire-rimmed glasses with a silk cloth as we sat at the long oak table in District Courthouse Room 3. The room was smaller than I expected, smelling of lemon oil and old wool, with high windows that let in the pale morning light. Across the aisle, Samuel sat next to his lawyer, his fingers tapping a fast, silent rhythm against the arm of his chair. He did not look at me, but his collar seemed too tight for his neck, and he kept adjusting his tie with a quick, nervous jerk of his thumb. Lisa Hawthorne sat on his other side, her face pale under a thick layer of makeup, her hand repeatedly twisting the large fake diamond ring on her finger.
