“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

with a thick envelope containing the fully executed agreement. Signatures, dates, witness lines. My personal copy. I filed it in our small fireproof lockbox, right next to birth certificates and Rachel’s will.

On Tuesday, as I scrolled through Instagram while waiting for a script to finish running on a client’s server, I saw it.

A photo of a nondescript continue reading …