Hugo held his mug without drinking.

“I was awake all night.”

I waited.

“I kept remembering things.”

“What things?”

“Every time I let something happen because challenging Carla felt harder.”

“It happened many times.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here alone?”

“Because I need to talk to you as your son. Not as Carla’s husband.”

That mattered.

“In the last few years, was there any point when you felt like I actually valued you?”

I thought before answering.

“There were good moments.”

“But?”

“Most of the time, I felt like you tolerated me because I was your mother.”

He closed his eyes.

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

“Fear doesn’t help you now.”

“No.”

“You need to understand why.”

“I let Carla decide everything.”

“That explains part of it.”

“It doesn’t excuse me.”

“No.”

“At first it was little things. Restaurants. Clothes. Who we invited. Then I stopped questioning anything because it was easier.”

“And eventually I disappeared.”

“Yes.”

His voice broke.

“Don’t turn this into a war against your wife.”

“She did terrible things.”

“So did you.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“Blaming Carla completely would just be another way of avoiding your own decisions.”

“I know.”

For a while, we listened to the water.

Then he said, “When I saw the house, my first thought was how much you could have done for us.”

I turned toward him.

His face reddened with shame.

“And then I realized what I was thinking.”

“I was still looking at your money before I was looking at you.”

“Yes.”

“I had a whole mother in front of me for years, and I reduced you to that apartment. Grocery sales. Your old purse. Waiting for our calls.”

I looked at my coffee.

“Sometimes I did wait for your calls.”

His eyes filled.

“That hurts more than the fifty million.”

“It should.”

“I need it to.”

After a moment he asked, “Is there any chance you’ll forgive me?”

“Forgiveness isn’t a prize you get because you cried for two days.”

“What do I do?”

“The right thing.”

“Even if you don’t forgive me?”

“Especially then.”

He sat with that.

“Can I bring Gabriel tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Carla?”

“No.”

“I understand.”

We stood.

He hesitated.

“Can I ask again?”

“What?”

“A hug.”

This time, I opened my arms.

He held on.

“Forgive me, Mom.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“That doesn’t mean everything goes back to the way it was.”

He pulled away.

“I don’t want it to.”

That was the right answer.

Gabriel arrived the next morning.

He climbed from Hugo’s car and stared at the villa.