“They arrested Lucía.”
Your eyes open.
“And Esteban?”
“Detained. He’s cooperating.”
Of course he is.
Cowards often become honest when the ground opens under them.
Grace’s face tightens.
“The recordings are clear, Elena. Her confession about Diego is there. The push is not visible, but your missing check-in, the location sharing, Esteban’s statement, and the recordings are enough for charges.”
“What charges?”
Marcus answers from the doorway.
“Attempted murder. Conspiracy. Financial exploitation. And we’re reopening Diego’s death as homicide.”
Diego.
For twenty years, his name lived in your house like a candle you were afraid to touch.
Now it becomes evidence.
You close your eyes.
“I’m sorry, my son,” you whisper.
The trial begins eleven months later.
Arturo survives, but he is changed. His right hand never fully recovers. He cannot carve fine details anymore. For a man who spoke through wood more easily than words, that is another punishment.
He accepts it.
He says it is less than he deserves.
You do not argue.
