It made sense now. Laura's evidence had been full of holes—sloppy, almost laughable. And yet I'd still been convicted. I'd spent three years in that cell trying to understand how. Now I knew: he'd rigged it. The man I'd trusted most had driven a knife into my back at the moment I needed him most.
"Why?" My voice came out rough and barely recognizable. "Why did you betray me?"
Bob let out a short, cold laugh. "Why?"
He turned, put his arm around Laura's waist, and kissed her.
My pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Marta spoke up from where she stood. "Bob was Mom's first love." Her voice was completely flat, like she was stating a fact about the weather. "If you hadn't gotten in the way back then, they'd already be together."
Bob raised his head and looked at me, his eyes full of hatred. "That's right, Andre. You took the woman I loved. There's no forgiving that."
I stared at him. I couldn't make it compute. "Over a woman?" My voice cracked. "You threw away decades of friendship over a woman? After everything I did for you? Do you even remember any of it?"
"'Did for me'?" Bob let out a sharp, contemptuous laugh, like what I'd said was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "That's a generous way to put it. The honest word is charity." He stepped toward me, looking down at me. "Andre, do you have any idea how much I've hated watching you act like you're above everyone else year after year? You're a convicted rapist. What exactly makes you think you deserve to be the one running things? What gives you the right to the big house, the nice car, the whole entourage? And me?" He jabbed a finger at himself. "I have a real law degree. I'm smarter than you. I'm more capable than you. But for all these years, I've been nothing but your dog, sitting when you said sit, coming when you called. Everything you gave me—the car, the money—it was all handouts, scraps you tossed at me to show everyone what a generous, big-hearted man you were. Today," he slapped the document down in front of me, "I'm going to leave you with nothing."
The papers landed with a sharp crack. The edges rustled in the air.
Marta's voice came from beside me, cold and flat. "Dad, sign it. Or this time, you won't be looking at three years."