We leave the court, Angela and I. Outside the court premises, the driver is slouching behind the wheel of the white Mitsubishi Pajero Jeep that is the firm’s official car. He rushes out of the car, reaches for the handle of the attaché case in my hand and pushes it into the boot of the Pajero. We sit far from each other in the backseat. Her face is turned to window the entire length of the drive to the office, exposing the harsh lines of a jaw clenched too tight. I smile.