“Kobe trusted you too.”

He nodded slowly. “Can I apologize to him?”

“Write first.”

A few days later the letter arrived — no excuses, no mention of money or the boat, no blaming childhood rivalry. It just said: I told Sailor to pull the alarm because I wanted to upset your mother.

I promised her a gift if you cried. That was wrong. Your birthday had nothing to do with my disappointment, and you did not deserve what happened. I am sorry.

Kobe read every word. “Do I have to answer?”