next to another one.
Complainant.
I looked towards the empty seat next to me.
And I cried.
Not because I had gotten Diego back.
That was impossible.
But because the world finally knew who it had been.
Months later I stopped working cleaning Vicente’s house.
He offered me an administrative position within a foundation created to support families of workers who died in workplace accidents.
I accepted under one condition.
—I don’t want charity.
Vicente raised an eyebrow.
—I never offered you charity.
—And I want a normal salary.
—Ramiro will say you’re negotiating badly.
—Then upload it.
She smiled.
Mia, of course, continued to take over her office.
By the time he turned 4, he already had a small table, books, pencils, and a box where he kept stones from the garden that he considered treasures.
One afternoon I found Vicente by the window.
Mia was sitting on the
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