Rosa returned to the original bedroom and examined the damaged pillow under a lamp. The glass fragments weren’t random—they had been carefully placed.
Someone had put them there intentionally.
The next morning, Daniel entered the dining room with his usual stern expression.
“Did he sleep?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rosa replied calmly. “In another room.”
Daniel frowned.
“I told you he needs discipline.”
Without raising her voice, Rosa placed a small plastic bag on the table.
Inside were the glass fragments she had removed from the pillow.
Sunlight caught them, making them sparkle.
Daniel’s face drained of color.
“What is that?” he asked.
“What was inside your son’s pillow.”
He picked up one shard carefully.
The sharp edge sliced his finger immediately.
A small drop of blood appeared.
His breathing changed.
“Who would do something like this?” he whispered.
Rosa met his eyes.
“Who had access to his room after your wife died?”
Memories rushed back—arguments about inheritance, tensions with his late wife’s sister, and the expensive “new bedding” she had insisted on bringing to the house.
Guilt hit him like a wave.
For weeks he had believed his son was being dramatic.