That was the entire point of saying it.

A man who says only what he is legally required to say has told you nothing about his character.

Corbin had spent thirty-eight years never once being tested on his, and he had discovered, at the last possible moment, what he wanted the answer to be.

He was aware, standing at that podium, of how many people were watching him throw away things they would have clutched with both hands — the deniability, the plausible distance, the perfectly legal option to survive this untouched.

His attorneys had laid it out for him plainly, and they had not been wrong: he could keep everything.