Harrison looked at me for a second. “Do you want the answer to that in a bar?”

“Print everything and send it straight to Gavin O’Brien,” I said.

He printed everything. Neither of us went back to the question, and I did not think about it again for over two years, and that is on me and not on him.

The next afternoon, a judge reviewed the mountain of evidence and signed a temporary restraining order. In an instant, digital shockwaves hit every major institution, freezing Everett’s checking, savings, investments, and credit lines.

I walked home, dropped a legal document onto the coffee table over Walter’s cigar ash, and looked at my in-laws.

“This is a formal eviction notice — seventy-two hours to pack and vacate my property,” I said. “Your son faked a corporate deployment to take his mistress on a hundred-thousand-dollar Hawaiian vacation.