He worked now, the summary noted, as a low-level data clerk for a logistics firm in Indiana, in a modest one-bedroom apartment, stripped of the cars and the club and the easy unearned arrogance that had defined him.

I read all of it without any feeling I could name as triumph.

It was the balance sheet, come out even at last.

Chapter 18 — Closure

There was a note clipped to the back of the file, from my divorce attorney. Mr.

Sterling’s attorney reached out yesterday, it read, asking whether you would be open to a brief coffee meeting, for closure.

I informed him that all communication remains barred under the permanent protective order.