“It was an accident!” Rodrigo yelled, trembling as he backed away toward the edge of the courtyard. “She wasn’t supposed to fall! She threatened to call the authorities right there in the study, and when I tried to take her phone, she fought back! She slipped on the stairs—I didn’t mean for it to happen!”

“An accident?” I said softly, staring at him with total disgust. “And yet you carried her body to a car, faked a medical emergency, and tried to burn her evidence before the sun came up.”

Before my mother could speak another word, the heavy iron gates of the hacienda swung open. Two state police cruisers pulled into the driveway, followed by an unmarked sedan belonging to the district investigator. Dr. Ana Lucía had done her job well; the authorities had acted immediately upon reviewing the forensic report.

My mother stood frozen as three officers stepped out of the vehicles and walked directly toward the courtyard. Rodrigo looked around wildly, as if searching for an escape route, but the high stone walls of the estate offered nowhere to run.

“Julián Armenta?” the lead investigator asked, stepping forward with a badge in hand.

“I am Julián Armenta,” I answered, keeping my gaze fixed on my brother. “And these are the individuals responsible for the death of my wife, Camila.”

The officers moved quickly, securing Rodrigo’s arms behind his back despite his frantic protests. My mother tried to pull away as an officer placed her under arrest for obstruction of justice and complicity in murder, her haughty demeanor finally dissolving into loud, bitter cries.

As they led them away toward the waiting patrol cars, the silence of the hacienda returned, heavier now, but clean of the lies that had filled it just hours before.

I walked back into the living room where Camila lay. I stood beside her, taking her cold hand once more into mine, and placed my forehead gently against hers.

“It’s over, my love,” I whispered into the quiet room. “They will never touch you again.”