I always imagined writing his memoir would be professional, clean, distant, entitled. But nothing about today was distant. It felt logically wrong but my heart urged me on.

By the time I arrived at his office that morning, everything already felt charged. His executive suite gleamed in the sunlight, but the privacy glass hid the glare it was only gray seen from the outside but crystal clear once you step inside. I walked past it slowly, aware I could be watched without seeing who was ...