Somewhere over the Mojave, at 41,000 feet, the Gulfstream leveled off and a steward set down a glass of twenty-year Scotch without being asked. My client — I’ll call him what his staff called him, simply the Principal — owned the aircraft and a portfolio whose complexity rivaled a mid-sized sovereign wealth fund. His net worth exceeded $4 billion. Eleven people existed solely to manage, protect, and grow it. I was one of them. Somewhere over the desert he turned and said, without irony, that he genuinely worried about his grandchildren. Not about money, but about character. The money, he figured, would outlast him either way. Character was the variable.
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