The Westchester Country Club in Rye, New York, was an exclusive bastion of old-money privilege, its stone terraces and manicured golf greens shrouded in cold winter mist. In the wood-paneled grill room, surrounded by oil paintings of champion thoroughbreds and antique brass trophies, Richard Sterling sat at a corner table with two senior corporate defense partners from a prominent Midtown law firm. Richard looked haggard, his designer sweater rumpled, his…
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