Then I called the attorney whose name appeared repeatedly in Neftalí’s files.
Miraculously, the phone connected.
The attorney answered.
“Hello?”
“My name is Maria.”
There was a long silence.
“Maria?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
I told him.
His voice changed immediately.
“You found the cabin.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find the box?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Another silence.
Then he whispered:
“Then Neftalí was right.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you need to come home.”
I returned to the mansion that evening.
The gate opened.
Inside, everything looked exactly as I remembered.
Except now I could see the house differently.
The expensive furniture.
The photographs.
The crystal glasses.
The enormous staircase.
Everything had been built on top of secrets.
I heard laughter before I even entered.
Vanessa was hosting a dinner party.
Only days after my son’s funeral.
Music played in the dining room.
People were drinking champagne.
I stood in the doorway holding the metal box.
One of the guests saw me first.
His smile disappeared.
Then another person turned.
The room slowly fell silent.
Vanessa looked toward the door.
For a second, she didn’t recognize me.
Then she did.
Her face changed.
“Maria?”
I walked toward the table.
