I stepped closer to the glass.
My son moved one tiny hand.
That was when I understood Camila’s final act.
She had not closed her hand only from pain.
She had closed it to guide me.
I placed two fingers against the glass.
“Hello, Mateo,” I whispered. “Dad is here.”
Ana Lucía handed me another folder.
“There is more. Medical findings inconsistent with the story your family gave. DNA under Camila’s fingernails. And the notary received three transfers from an account linked to Rodrigo.”
I opened the folder and saw copies, dates, stamps, proof.
Everything was there.
My mother and brother had not only taken Camila from me.
They had tried to erase my son.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked.
Ana Lucía held my gaze.
“Hold on until the funeral. The prosecutor’s office has already been notified. We need them to feel safe enough to show up, speak, and not run.”
