this nonsense?” Ousman demanded, scrambling to his feet, trying to maintain his authority. “You come back from America and forget how to respect your elders?!”
“Respect?” Sakina echoed, a fierce, quiet rage burning in her eyes. “Open the folder, Ousman.”
With trembling hands, the attorney stepped forward and opened it for him. Inside were eight years of meticulous documentation: Western Union and MoneyGram receipts totaling tens of thousands of dollars, every single one addressed to Ousman Diallo for “medical care.” Beneath those were the forged land deeds to her mother’s
