I stood slowly.
I walked toward it.
My hands searched the wooden panels.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a tiny nail that looked newer than the others.
I pressed it.
A section of the wall clicked.
My heart nearly stopped.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a folder.
I pulled it out.
The title on the first page made my blood run cold.
MOUNTAIN LAND TRUST.
I began reading.
The land beneath the cabin had been transferred into a protected trust months before Neftalí’s death.
And the beneficiary was me.
Not Vanessa.
Me.
I sat down.
He had protected me.
Quietly.
Without telling anyone.
Perhaps he had known that if he warned me, Vanessa would discover what he had done.
Then I found the final document.
A letter to an attorney.
“If anything happens to me, this information must be given to law enforcement.”
My hands shook.
I looked toward the window.
The mountains were completely still.
For the first time since arriving, I realized something.
I wasn’t abandoned.
I had been placed exactly where my son wanted me to be.
The cabin wasn’t a prison.
It was a hiding place.
And the box wasn’t an inheritance.
It was a warning.
