As he moved toward the foyer, two process servers and a bank fraud investigator, who had been waiting in the lobby since before the toast, stepped into his path and handed him a small stack of documents: a summons on identity-theft charges, an emergency order freezing his assets, a formal notice of intent to prosecute.

He read the first page, and the last of his polished composure fell off him like a coat.

“Valerie,” he said, turning back to me, and his voice had gone pleading now, stripped all the way down.

“Valerie, talk to me.

We can fix this privately.

Please.”