folder containing property-tax, insurance, closing, and deed records. I showed Michael the deed, bearing only one owner’s name: Emily Bennett.
“I think you forgot something,” I said.
Michael didn’t look at the screen.
“This is exactly what you always do.”
“What?”
“You use that condo against me.”
Michael and I met in college. I had a strong salary after graduation, savings my grandparents had left me, and parents who had taught me early that financial independence mattered. By the time Michael and I got engaged, Chicago real estate prices were
