“Because I am the one who filed the petition with the magistrate in Madrid,” I said.

He stared at me, his mouth opening slightly.

“You…” he started.

“Come into the study, Alvaro,” I said, turning my back on him and walking down the hall. “It is cold out there.”

He followed me, his wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor.

I entered the study and stood behind the desk.

Alvaro stopped in the center of the room, looking at the papers laid out under the lamp.

He walked over slowly, his eyes scanning the documents.

He saw the blue folder.

He saw the custody agreements.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Your way out,” I said.

“My way out?” he repeated. “You think I will sign this?”

“I know you will,” I said.

He picked up the custody document, his wet thumb leaving a dark smudge on the white paper.

“You want sole custody,” he said, looking up at me. “You think you can take them from me.”

“I am not taking them from you,” I said. “You are giving them to me.”