Nobody slammed a folder on the table or announced that money made the result inevitable.

The process was slow, unglamorous, and necessary.

Afterward, Vance asked whether I thought Oliver would someday hate him.

“I can’t answer for Oliver,” I said.

“But you can decide what kind of father he has the chance to know.

That starts now.”

He stared at me.

“You won’t tell him what happened?”