I kept hoping that I had misunderstood, that there was an explanation, that Luca would turn out to be a decent man caught in a bad situation rather than a knowing partner to his mother’s theft.

I kept the evidence the way you keep a fire extinguisher — hoping, praying, that you will never have cause to break the glass.

That is not complicity.

That is love, refusing, past all reason, to give up on the person it has chosen.

My silence was the sound of my heart holding out hope after my professional judgment had already reached its verdict.

And Wendy, when she raised her hands to me, did the one thing that finally made hope impossible.