Her eyes fill with tears. “Because he wouldn’t try anything with you there. And if he did, he’d have to go through me. I made it impossible for him to reach me without waking you.”
The truth lands hard.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to. But everyone loves him. And I thought… maybe I could handle it quietly.”
You shake your head. “No more quiet.”
She panics. “If we tell them without proof, he’ll deny everything. He’ll twist it.”
You know she’s right.
“We need evidence,” you say.
The next day, you start watching Mateo.
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
His gaze lingering too long. His questions about who’s home. His helpfulness that feels… calculated.
While he showers, you check his desk.
You find a second phone.
No passcode.
Inside—photos. Screenshots. Women from social media. Cropped images. And one photo of Sofia on the roof, taken without her knowing.
At the bottom, a short video: a dark hallway, a bedroom door slightly open.
Your throat goes dry.
That night, you show Sofia.
She breaks down. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”
“You weren’t.”
The next day, you tell David.
He doesn’t understand at first.
Then he sees the images.
Everything in him collapses and rebuilds at once.