“Don’t lie, Teresa. It doesn’t suit you,” I said. “I heard about the insurance. I heard about Karla. I heard about the thirty days. I heard you call me a vegetable.”
Andrés was hyperventilating. “Lucía, baby, I can explain. It was grief. I was out of my mind with grief!”
“Grief?” I laughed, a dry, harsh sound. “Was it grief when you let your mistress wear my wedding dress? Was it grief when you negotiated the price for my second daughter?”
The bathroom door burst open. My father, a man of gentle nature, looked like he wanted to kill. My mother was sobbing.
At the same moment, the main door swung open. The police officers stepped in, followed by Ms. Castillo.
“Andrés Molina, Teresa Molina,” the officer announced, his voice booming. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, and human trafficking.”
Teresa screamed. A high, animalistic sound. She lunged for the door, but the officer grabbed her arm. She thrashed, spitting curses, her mask of high-society elegance completely gone.
Andrés just sank to his knees. He looked at me, tears streaming down his face.
“Lucía, please…”