Dr. Ana Lucía was waiting near the emergency entrance. She was not wearing a lab coat. Her face was tired, and her eyes were red.
“We don’t have much time,” she said.
She led me through a side corridor into a locked office. On a metal table sat an evidence bag.
Inside was Camila’s phone.
The screen was cracked.
“They found this hidden under her clothes,” Ana Lucía said. “It was not included in the report your mother filed. She wanted it gone. But one of the nurses kept it.”
“Does it work?”
“We recovered one file.”
She handed me headphones.
I was not ready to hear my wife’s voice.
The video began shakily. Part of our bedroom appeared on-screen. Camila was breathing heavily, struggling to stay conscious.
Then Rodrigo’s voice came through.
“Sign it, Camila. Julian will never know.”
My stomach tightened.
Then my mother spoke.
