The villa at Bradford Lane sprawled across four meticulously maintained acres. It was a blend of modern and classic design. Dark window frames contrasted sharply with the soft cream stucco walls and complemented the dark stone that lined the garage, front entryway, and, further down, the office. Front-to-ceiling windows overlooked a professionally landscaped yard. The property was framed by tall, clean-cut hedges, with a mix of lavender, hydrangeas, and white roses arching along the house's foundation.

Lara drove down a long, winding driveway that led through a lush green lawn. The paving stone path was framed with bark mulch and evenly spaced arborvitae. Each one was shaved into a teardrop shape, identical in size, as if stamped from a mold.

She pulled up in front of the four-car garage. She fished her phone out of her bag and opened the e-mail app.

No new messages.

A small frown wrinkled her forehead. Impatiently, she opened the sent messages, clicking on the one that she'd sent to the person behind the Facts of Murder account. She read:

Hello,

I've watched your video on the Bradley Henderson case. I was wondering if you could get me in touch with the source who provided you with the information about Bradley's alleged misconduct in high school. I'm writing an article on this case and I'm trying to track down everyone who might have some reliable information on the case and the people involved.

I'm willing to provide proper compensation for your trouble.

Thank you in advance,

Lara Smith

She stared at the screen, willing it to change. Of course, two hours wasn't enough to respond, but her fingers itched to refresh the page again and again anyway.

With an annoyed huff, she tossed the phone back into her bag. She got out of the BMW and followed a dark, sleek stone path to the house.

The morning air was crisp; cool air nipped at her exposed skin. Lara wished she'd brought a jacket.

As she stepped through the tall front door, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her nose. The open floor plan swept the smell from the kitchen and spread it through the ground level.

A blonde woman at the kitchen counter spun around. Her bright blue eyes widened in fear for only a moment, before they softened at the sight of her daughter.

"Lara," she breathed. She let out a tense chuckle, resting her palm on her chest. "Morning. I didn't know you were coming."

Lara crossed the foyer, walked past a long dining table, and stopped at the kitchen island. Its dark color contrasted with the white marble countertop and white cabinets.

She slipped onto a black backless barstool.

Mariah's Botox-smoothed forehead barely moved. Her brows strained to furrow, but failed. Still, Lara could read the concern in her eyes.

"What's wrong, honey? You look exhausted."

Lara's face was drained of any lively color and dark circles spread under her eyes. Her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun, and she hadn't put on any makeup.

"I'm just tired."

"Do you want some coffee?"

Lara nodded, so Mariah put her cup down and began preparing a fresh one.

"Is dad here?" Lara asked, glancing around.

"No, he's on a business trip. Why? Do you need something?"

"No. I just…" She faltered.

How was she supposed to bring it up? 'Mom, did Bradley rape somebody?' wasn't exactly a 7 a.m. random Monday morning conversation.

"I saw Daniel," she finally said.

Instantly Mariah spun on her heel, mouth agape.

"What?" she asked sharply. " Lara, I told you not to do that. Why would you want to see him?"

"I needed to see him and… see if he regretted what he'd done."

"Did he?" the mother asked through her teeth. She crossed her arms tightly on her chest.

"No."

"Of course not." Mariah’s face twisted in disgust. "He's rotten to the core." Her tone was ice-cold. There was no one in the world that she hated more than Daniel Navarro. He took her only son. Her baby.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned to the coffee maker. In silence, she watched the coffee pour into a round, white cup. Once filled, she grabbed it. She added a splash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar. Finally, she put a cinnamon stick inside and handed it to Lara.

"I know, this is hard for you. Trust me, I don't want him walking around free like he deserves to be alive either," her voice cracked, but she composed herself quickly. "But seeing him is not good for your mental health. Your dad and I did everything we could to shield you from this." With a sad smile, she reached for Lara's hand and gently caressed it. "Please, don't let this man bring you down."

Lara's eyes were fixed on the marble counter. She chewed at her lip before slowly looking up at her mother.

"He said something."

Mariah straightened up with a huff, letting go of her daughter's hand.

"Don’t listen to him, Lara," she replied, her soft voice now firm.

"But it's not just him, mom." They stared at each other for a moment, and Lara felt her eyes fill with tears. The tension inside her was overflowing. Sniffling, she continued, "Daniel said Bradley hurt his sister—"

"It was an excuse to get a shorter sentence," Mariah interjected.

"…And there's a girl who says Bradley hurt her in high school. And that he got expelled for it. And I remember that we moved when he was, like, sixteen, so—" Lara spoke quickly, her words spilling out of her mouth. She wiped her cheek with her palm.

"Lara, honey, Bradley… wasn't perfect, but he wouldn't do that," Mariah said softly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. Her eyes shifted away, just for a second. "That..." Her lips thinned. "That girl spread those rumors for money," she muttered the last word through her teeth, her fingers lightly trembling. "You know how it is—some people will do anything when there's something to gain. They don't care whose life they ruin, as long as they get their payout." She sighed deeply. "Did you know she didn't file a police report? Of course, because it didn't happen. The school didn't treat these false accusations seriously. We paid so much for tuition, and they showed us no respect. That girl faced no consequences for these lies, so your father refused to give them another penny and pulled you both from this school."

Lara, who had watched her mother still sniffling, wiped her nose with a tissue. Her labored breathing was slowly calming down.

"This is exactly what we tried to protect you from, Lara," Mariah continued. She leaned over the kitchen island again, gently rubbing her daughter's forearm. "It's like it's not enough that we've lost Bradley. People want to lie, sensationalize it all for money, attention, or fame. It's just not right."

Lara nodded slowly. She took a shaky breath.

"You're right, mom. I—I can't believe I let him get in my head." She grabbed her cup and took a sip of hot coffee. The cinnamon stick had already given it a faint, spicy taste. "But… Do you remember the girl's name?"

Mariah straightened. She blinked slowly.

"Kelly something, I think. I can't remember anymore."