Thirty-five years of hostile negotiations had taught me the one thing my son had never learned, the thing that separates people who win from people who merely rage: anger makes noise, but evidence makes decisions.

Amber wanted to make my wife tear her dress in front of two hundred people.

I did not want to shout at Amber.

I wanted a file.

And by the time I walked back to my seat, before Hazel had even noticed I was gone, I had begun to build one.

The difference between anger and evidence is the difference between my son and me, and it is the whole reason the night ended as it did.

Anger is loud, and it feels like power, and it is almost always weakness in disguise.