He stayed clear-headed long enough to do what men like Bradley do when they know disorder is coming.

He prepared.

Attorney Elena Cruz arrived at the hospital the next morning carrying a leather portfolio and accompanied by a notary from her office.

I still remember the click of the pen.

The blue seal.

Bradley’s hand trembling once before steadying.

He signed documents I couldn’t fully grasp at the time because I was trying not to imagine a world without him.

He transferred final control of the condo and every related holding interest into the St.

Augustine Harbor Trust.

I was named sole trustee and beneficiary.

He updated beneficiaries on his investment accounts.

He revoked every family access authorization that lingered in older records.

He finalized a letter of instruction to Elena.

And then, because Bradley was Bradley, he created something he called a contingency file.

‘If they behave like human beings,’ he said, exhausted, ‘it won’t matter.’

I asked what it contained.