Chapter 3
I carried Leo into the house.
Not because he could not walk.
Because I needed to feel his weight against me.
Alive.
Breathing.
Mine.
In the marble hallway, he pressed his face into my neck.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I stopped walking.
“For what?”
“For touching Mom’s things.”
My heart cracked.
I sat on the stairs with him in my lap, even though men were watching and whispers were already moving through the house.
“You never apologize for finding the truth,” I said.
His little fingers curled into my shirt.
“Javier said boys who cry become weak.”
I closed my eyes.
“Elena used to cry when she was happy,” I said. “Your mother was the strongest person I ever knew.”
Leo’s breathing shook.
“I miss her.”
“So do I.”
Sofia knelt in front of him.
Her eyes were full of fire.
“Did Javier hurt you before tonight?”
Leo went quiet.
Too quiet.
My blood turned heavy.
“Leo,” I said.
He looked at his hands.
“Only when you were gone.”
Sofia covered her mouth.
I stood with Leo still in my arms.
“Marco.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Find every camera angle from this house. Tonight. Last week. Last month. Everything.”
Marco nodded.
“And nobody leaves.”
The guests understood then.
This was no longer a family barbecue.
It was an investigation.
I took Leo to his room and checked his arms, shoulders, ribs.
There were small bruises.
Not fresh enough to scream.
Not old enough to forgive.
Each one was a confession Javier had written on my son’s skin.
Leo watched my face.
“Are you mad at me?”
I almost broke.
“No. I am mad that I didn’t see.”
He touched my cheek.
“Mom saw.”
The room went silent.
“What do you mean?”
Leo reached under his pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I found this first,” he whispered. “Before the notebook.”
It was Elena’s handwriting again.
My beautiful Elena.
May you like
My dead wife.
Leo, if you find this, trust your father. Run to him before Javier teaches you silence.
