“Drive safe,” I called to him, the ordinary thing you call to someone you expect to see at dinner.

“Always do, teacher,” he called back, grinning, the old grin, and drove on.

I have carried that small exchange for years, the last thing my husband ever said to me, or so I believed.

Drive safe.

Always do, teacher.

I did not know I was watching a man drive toward the worst choice of his life.

An hour later, Sebastian arrived at Santiago’s house carrying the folder of evidence, ready to stand beside his brother while he confessed.

They got into Santiago’s sedan together, Santiago behind the wheel, Sebastian in the passenger seat with the folder on his knees, and they pulled out onto the road that was supposed to take them to the corporate office, and to the end of the lie, and to the beginning of Santiago’s accountability.