He rose suddenly, then dropped back into the chair as if his body couldn’t decide whether fear or pride was stronger. His gaze moved from Carol to the photographs, the letters, the cabin walls that held more of his mother’s truth than the villa ever had.

“She really planned all this?”

“Yes.”

“Even after what I said?”

Carol answered before I could. “She cried after she heard you. But she still made sure you had a way out.”

Bradley leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. For several minutes none of us spoke. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red.