“Javier doesn’t run my life. And Lucía…” he closed his eyes briefly, as if holding something back. “Things have changed, María.”
He pulled off his leather gloves with a sharp gesture.
“Get in the car,” he repeated. “I’m not here to rescue you out of pity. I’m here because I need your help.”
I looked at him suspiciously.
“My help? I have nothing. I’m nobody.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“Exactly. Because to them, you’re dead. Because you don’t count. Because no one will suspect you.”
A cold shiver ran down my neck.
“Suspect me of what?” I asked.
Ernesto held my gaze, his eyes dark and tired.
“María,” he said with a coldness I had never heard from him before, “I need you to help me destroy my own son.”
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