Vicente stood in front of us.
—The girl is leaving here.
Arturo smiled.
—Everyone can
I want to leave. I just want some documents that should never have existed.
—You kidnapped a 3-year-old girl.
—Let’s not dramatize.
Vicente took a step forward.
Arturo stopped smiling.
-Careful.
—You should be careful.
Arturo looked at me again.
—Diego had the same problem.
I felt my body go cold.
—What problem?
—I didn’t know when to stop asking questions.
Vicente remained motionless.
—What did you just say?
Arturo sighed.
—For months he recorded material deliveries, batch numbers, and receiving signatures. He thought he was an auditor.
“He was a construction supervisor,” I replied.
—He was an employee.
—He was my husband.
Arturo barely smiled.
—And it was awkward.
Vicente took another step.
—I thought they had tampered with the scaffolding to kill me.
Arturo observed him.
—You always had an inflated opinion of
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