Courtney kissed him goodbye at the entrance to the parking garage, and by the time he reached his car, she’d already sent him a sexy text message. He deleted it without replying, irritated at her frivolity, her obliviousness to the import of the day. It had been over four years since Prem died, and Keith still keenly felt his absence. What would his son be doing today? How would he be feeling? Would he be sad to see his sister go, or happy to come out from her shadow? Keith was always accompanied by the ghost of an eight-year-old boy frozen in time, a son he would never teach how to shave, tie a necktie or drive.

Keith had learned to live with the things he couldn’t control, starting with Prem’s death and ending with the dissolution of his marriage. Jaya had been determined to pursue a path without him. Her resolve, always formidable, became unnerving once it was turned against him. When they emerged from that rawest period of grief, Jaya had built a wall around herself, blocking out everyone, including him. In the end—once he understood that she no longer wanted to live the same life with him—what lingered was this: she didn’t seem to value what they’d created together. He wanted her to acknowledge that they’d had it all, and she’d chosen to squander it.

Keith put the car into top gear for the one short stretch of highway on the route to the house and lay his head back against the headrest, trying to settle his nerves. Without knowing why exactly, he’d gotten a haircut yesterday, feeling more like he used to in the early days of his and Jaya’s courtship than in the later years of their marriage. At Karina’s graduation party at a Mexican restaurant a few months earlier, he and Jaya had stood off to the side together with their margaritas and watched Karina and her friends dance in sombreros. He and Jaya basked in the lovely young woman their daughter had become, and Jaya smiled and laughed most of the night. He always hoped for that version of his ex-wife, but she didn’t materialize often.

Keith had learned to focus on the things he could control. He’d maintained a good relationship with Karina and given her the opportunity to pursue anything she wanted in high school, to go anywhere she wished for college, regardless of expense. He’d hoped she would dream a little bigger than UC Santa Barbara. His own education had undoubtedly opened doors for him. But those doors were now open for his daughter as well, who had reaped the benefits of a good neighborhood and schooling, and he did take some comfort in her staying in state, just a few hours’ drive away.

Mostly, what Keith could control was his work. Duncan Weiss truly valued Keith and gave him more freedom. He’d risen to become the top producer on the West Coast, bringing in more fees than any other partner. With no family life to come home to, Keith preferred to work hard and travel frequently, which helped foster his success. He’d learned that winning wasn’t always so much about survival of the fittest as it was about just survival—simply outlasting everyone else. He had a strong network of clients with whom he dined and played golf, people he genuinely enjoyed. His network became his competitive edge: he was so closely intertwined with his clients’ businesses that when a transaction came up, he was right there; they never considered calling another banker. And the rush he got from doing this work hadn’t diminished at all through the years.