I sat in silence for a long moment, processing the terrible reality. Camila had not died of natural causes. She had fought for her life and the life of our unborn child inside our own home, while I was miles away believing everything was peaceful. The navy-blue button in my pocket felt like a burning ember.
“I need those medical reports and the blood samples, Ana Lucía,” I said, leaning forward. “My mother intends to cremate her today to erase all physical evidence. If that happens, we will never get justice.”
Ana Lucía opened her desk drawer and pulled out a encrypted flash drive alongside a sealed envelope containing signed affidavits from the attending nurses. “I made copies of everything the moment I realized what your family was doing. The original toxicology report shows high traces of a powerful sedative in her system—something that would have rendered her unable to defend herself fully.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the drive and slipping it into my coat. “Keep the original physical files locked away. I am going to end this today.”
“Be careful, Julián,” she warned as I stood up. “Your mother and brother are desperate. The vineyard is severely in debt, and they know the power of attorney you signed with Camila transfers full control of the land and assets back to the estate’s independent trust upon her death. If they discover you know the truth before the police are involved, they will not hesitate to protect themselves.”
“They already made their mistake,” I replied quietly. “They assumed I was weak.”
I drove back to San Miguel as the sun began to rise over the mountains, painting the sky in deep shades of gold and orange. The city was waking up, but inside the Armenta hacienda, the atmosphere remained grim and suffocating.
When I entered the main courtyard, I found my mother standing near the fountain, talking in hushed, urgent tones with two men dressed in dark suits—the family’s longtime legal representatives. Rodrigo was standing a few feet away, leaning against a pillar, nervously checking his watch.
As soon as my mother saw me walk through the archway, her expression hardened. She whispered something to the lawyers, who quickly excused themselves and walked toward the front gates.
“Where have you been, Julián?” Teresa asked, her tone sharp with judgment. “People will be arriving for the service in two hours. You should be here, preparing to honor your wife, not wandering around the city.”
“I was securing what belongs to Camila,” I said calmly, walking toward her until I was standing only a few feet away.
Rodrigo straightened up, his eyes narrowing behind his dark sunglasses. “What is that supposed to mean? Everything is taken care of. The hearse will be here at noon, and the cremation is scheduled for three. We need to close this tragic chapter and move forward.”
“Cremation won’t be necessary, Rodrigo,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “And neither will your lie about the hospital.”
My mother took a step forward, her chin tilted upward in defiance. “Don’t start with your wild accusations again, Julián. Grief is making you unstable. You are disrespecting your wife’s memory.”
“Am I?” I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the navy-blue button, and held it out on the palm of my hand.
Rodrigo’s breath caught in his throat. His hand instinctively moved toward the collar of his shirt, where the top button of his casual shirt was fastened, but his eyes darted toward the hallway where his tailor-made jackets were kept.
“I found this clenched inside Camila’s hand,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet morning air like a blade. “She tore it off during her final moments. She fought back, Rodrigo. And she left me the exact clue I needed to make sure you never take another step in freedom.”
Teresa’s face went completely pale, the crimson lipstick standing out starkly against her colorless skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That could belong to anyone!”
“It matches the fabric thread under her fingernails,” I continued, taking a step toward my brother. “And it matches the scratch on your neck that you’ve been trying to hide all morning. But more importantly, Dr. Ana Lucía has already filed a formal report with the state prosecutor’s office. She preserved the blood evidence and the toxicology results showing the sedatives you used on her.”
Rodrigo took a step back, his composure completely shattering. “Mother, you said the doctor wouldn’t be an issue! You said she signed the papers!”
“Shut up, Rodrigo!” Teresa snapped, turning on him with fierce desperation before looking back at me. “Julián, listen to me carefully. You don’t understand the situation we were in. Camila was going to ruin this family! She went to the auditors behind our backs. She was going to have your brother arrested for fraud! Everything your father built would have been confiscated!”
“She was protecting the truth!” I shouted, the restraint I had held for hours finally breaking into raw, furious grief. “She was protecting our family from your greed! And you killed her—you killed my wife and my child—to protect a pile of debt and stolen money!”
