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“Technically, I lease it through one of my corporations.” “One of your corporations. Must be nice to be a bazillionaire.” “Mostly, it’s just exhausting.” That admission surprises me. He sees it on my face. “After a certain amount, money is a burden.” “I’m dubious.” “You’ll have to trust me on this one.” “So you’d rather go back to being poor like you grew up?” He’s surprised again. “You remember I said that.” “I remember everything.” When his eyes sharpen, I avert my gaze and sip more of my wine. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, he watches me closely for a moment, his head tilted to one side. Then he switches the subject. “Why a criminal defense attorney?” My heart skips a beat. This isn’t a topic I want to discuss. There are too many emotional minefields. I drop my gaze t
- Writer
