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“I have,” Ashraf, our lawyer, gravely intones, “some unsavory news.” And it comes to pass that we are victims of a fraud, that the condo in downtown Kuala Lumpur is not ours, that a good chunk of our money is not recoverable, at least not any time soon. The legal beast is lumbering along like a good-intentioned but dim-witted giant, squashing our dreams. We try to be Panglossian about the situation, but tonight even the curry at our favorite hawker stall tastes off.
the call to our lawyer