The thing that undid them, in the end, was the same arrogance that had let them do it in the first place.

Powerful people who have never faced a consequence do not plan for one; they leave trails because they cannot imagine anyone ever following them.

My father had conducted a criminal conspiracy through his own estate attorney, in emails, on the assumption that his name would forever place him above scrutiny.

The Fairfaxes had moved their cover-up money through shell accounts that a competent detective unwound in a matter of weeks.

And the clinic, once federal agents arrived with warrants, produced administrator after administrator eager to trade testimony for leniency, because paid-off functionaries have no loyalty once the paycheck becomes a liability.

Two dynasties that had stood for a combined century and a half came apart in six months, not because they were unlucky but because they had built their whole existence on the belief that the rules did not apply to them — and the belief, it turned out, was the vulnerability.