“Get out of here, you beggar!” — she ᴛʜʀᴇᴡ soapy water on the little homeless boy. She had no idea that five minutes later, she would lose everything.

Now I could see what they were holding.

Shovels.

“Let’s just say,” Vásquez finished calmly, “Don Roberto knows how to make problems… disappear.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they could hear it. I glanced toward María’s house, but all the lights were off.

“Where is Miguelito now?” I asked, my voice breaking.

Vásquez checked his watch.

“That’s the right question, Mrs. Morales. Because it turns out… the boy never went home.”

My veins turned to ice.

“After you chased him away with soapy water, Miguelito kept walking. And now…”
He paused dramatically.
“Now he’s lost somewhere in the city. A traumatized, soaking-wet child, cold, terrified—and carrying the secret of where his stepmother’s body is hidden.”

The men began walking toward my backyard.

“Don Roberto sent me here with a very simple mission,” Vásquez said as his men started digging.
“Find Miguelito before he talks to anyone. And erase any evidence that he was ever here.”

That was when I heard a sound that paralyzed me with terror.

A child’s cry.

It was coming from inside my house.