He had only refused to stop looking once the facts appeared.
"No," Roger said.
Kimberly waited.
Roger's voice remained calm.
"I kept records."
That was all.
He did not tell her she had underestimated him. He did not mention Jason.
He did not repeat the email.
"Roger never checks anything."
There was no reason.
Kimberly looked at him for another second. Then she turned and walked toward Eric.
Roger watched only long enough to make sure the conversation was over.
Amanda approached. "You ready?"
"Yes."
They walked toward the elevators.
Outside the courthouse, Roger stopped on the sidewalk. Cold air moved between the buildings.
Amanda extended her hand. "Take care of yourself, Roger."
He shook it. "Thank you."
"You made my job easier than most clients do."
"How?"
"You listened."
Roger nodded. Then Amanda walked away.
Roger stood alone.
His phone vibrated. He expected an email from work.
Instead, it was a notification from the title company.
The final distribution from the Ashborne Drive closing had posted.
Roger opened his banking app.
There it was.
A number.
Nothing more.
A number where a house used to be.
Roger stared at the screen.
He thought about the first down payment from his father's land. The kitchen cabinets.
The scratch in the dining room floor. Emily's height marks.
The two wine glasses.
Jason on the stairs.
Kimberly saying, "Aren't you away?"
Then he locked the phone.
Across the street, people entered a coffee shop. A bus stopped at the corner.
Someone honked.
The city had no idea Roger Barry had just finished one of the worst chapters of his life.
That suited him.
He walked toward the old Ford Explorer.
It was still eight years old. Still practical.
Still unimpressive.
Roger opened the driver's door. Before getting in, he looked back at the courthouse.
No triumph.
No applause.
No public humiliation.
The system had not given him revenge.
It had given him something better.