During those months, Bruno tried to reach me three times.

The first was a text from a burner number: We can settle this like adults, Jade.

Please. I blocked it.

The second was his cousin, sent to tell me that Bruno was really the victim of his domineering parents.

I did not respond.

The third time was in person, at a pretrial hearing.

Bruno had been fired from his firm by then, his corporate standing destroyed, and he stood in the courthouse hallway looking thin and gray and disheveled.

“Jade, please,” he whispered as I passed.