PART6

The way Carmen had examined the Brooklyn house from room to room when she first visited.

Her insistence that the locked room was a waste of space.

The time she had asked whether my father had ever owned property outside New York.

I had answered every question without suspicion.

Why wouldn’t I?

She was my husband’s mother.

I had believed that welcoming her into my home was part of building a family.

Instead, I might have been giving information to people who had been waiting for an opportunity to take what belonged to me.

I wiped my eyes.

“There’s something else,” I said.

Dr. Ibarra waited.

“Marcos said something while he thought I was unconscious. He said Dr. Salgado had told him I wouldn’t wake up.”

Dr. Ibarra’s expression hardened.

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said they wanted to obtain medical guardianship. Carmen had documents with a copy of my identification and a signature they had practiced.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“And he told her to increase my dose.”

Dr. Ibarra closed the folder.

“Thank you for telling me. Your statement will need to be documented and handled carefully. We will not draw conclusions before the evidence is reviewed, but those are serious allegations.”

I nodded.

For the first time, I understood why my father had written that I should let the evidence speak first.

I had spent my life believing that the truth would be obvious once someone heard it.

But the truth needed witnesses.

It needed records.

It needed people who could not be bought, frightened, or persuaded to look the other way.

And it needed me to stay alive long enough to tell it.

That evening, Marcos returned.

I knew it was him before he spoke.

His footsteps were familiar, as was the faint scent of his cologne. For three years, that smell had meant home to me.

Now it made my stomach tighten.

He entered carrying a bouquet of white roses.

“Elena, my love.”

His voice was soft, almost breaking.

“I heard you’re awake.”

I kept my eyes closed.

Dr. Chen had warned me not to exhaust myself, and Dr. Ibarra had advised me not to discuss the investigation until the appropriate safeguards were in place.

I didn’t know whether Marcos had already been questioned.

I didn’t know what he had been told.

But I knew one thing.

He could not be allowed to see how much I remembered.

He approached my bed.

“Sweetheart?”

I heard the roses being placed on the table.

Then the mattress shifted as he sat beside me.

“I was so worried.”

His hand touched mine.

I fought the urge to pull away.

“I haven’t slept properly in seven days,” he continued. “I’ve been praying every night.”

A bitter thought rose inside me.

Praying for what, Marcos?

For my recovery?

Or for the money?

He sighed.

“Your mother-in-law has been here every day. She’s been so worried too.”

I almost laughed.

Then he lowered his voice.

“There’s something I need you to understand, Elena. If you can hear me, don’t let anyone confuse you when you wake up. Your father left complicated financial arrangements, and some people may try to interfere.”

My heart beat faster.

He knew about the documents.

Perhaps he had spoken to Carmen.

Perhaps he had already discovered that the hospital was reviewing his actions.

“Your father didn’t trust many people,” Marcos continued. “He always made things more difficult than they needed to be.”

His fingers tightened around mine.

“But I can protect you. I can make all of this easier. You just have to trust me.”

I remained still.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then his voice changed.

The sweetness disappeared, leaving something colder beneath it.

“You know, Elena, I never understood why you kept that house.”

I felt his thumb move against my hand.

“It’s old. It’s expensive. It has problems that need fixing. You could sell it, invest the money, and live comfortably for the rest of your life.”

He paused.

“Your father isn’t coming back.”

The words struck me like a slap.

I wanted to open my eyes and tell him that my father was more present in that room than Marcos could ever be.

But I stayed silent.

Marcos leaned closer.

“And if you do wake up, we need to talk about the paperwork. Carmen has already spoken to the attorney. It’s all very straightforward.”

He waited.

I didn’t move.

“Elena?”

Nothing.

His breathing grew heavier.

“Don’t make this difficult.”

There it was.

Not a declaration of love.

Not a prayer for my recovery.

An instruction.

He straightened and walked toward the door.

Before leaving, he stopped.

“You know what the worst part is?” he whispered.

I listened.

“I really did love you once.”

The door opened.

Then closed.

I lay perfectly still, staring into the darkness behind my eyelids.

Perhaps some part of him had loved me once.

Perhaps the beginning of our marriage had contained real affection mixed with selfishness, ambition, and secrets.

I would never know for certain.

But even if his love had once been real, it did not excuse what he had chosen to do.

Love did not give him ownership of my body.

Marriage did not give him ownership of my inheritance.

And the years I had spent trusting him did not obligate me to trust him now.

When the nurse returned, I opened my eyes.

“Please,” I whispered.

She leaned close.

“I need you to call Dr. Chen.”

“Of course.”

“And Dr. Ibarra.”

She nodded.

I swallowed, gathering the strength to speak.

“I want to make a statement.”

The nurse’s expression became serious.

“All right, Elena.”

I looked toward the closed door.

“And I want someone to protect my father’s house.”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART7…