Part 1
The coffee cup was trembling in my hands when I heard my daughter’s voice behind the office door.
At that moment I knew I was fired.
Perhaps something worse.
My name is Sofia Navarro.
She was 34 years old and had been working for 8 months as a cleaning lady at the residence of Vicente Castañeda, in a private area of Zapopan.
That house looked like a luxury hotel.
Marble floors.
Paintings that probably cost more than my apartment.
Black SUVs coming and going at all hours.
Men in suits who never explained what they were doing there.
And a rule that all employees knew.
Nobody entered Mr. Castañeda’s office without permission.
Nobody.
That morning I had already broken another rule.
I had taken my daughter to work.
The nanny called me at 5:40 to tell me I had a fever.
My sister didn’t answer.
AND
I
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