My mouth fell open at my father’s deduction. "I did not!"
Camila let out a scoff so exaggerated I thought she might strain her neck. "Oh, spare us the innocent act, María José. Por Dios, I have always said you weren’t as sweet as you pretend to be."
Here we go.
"She’s a pretender," she continued, eyes flashing. "She’s evil. Look at this!" She gestured wildly at the dead pigs, as if their re existence proved my guilt. "What kind of normal person even does sothing like this?"
"I didn’t do anything!" I snapped, pushing myself upright despite the sharp protest of my ribs.
"Didn’t expect this from you, María José," Rosa finally murmured, disappointnt evident in her tone.
Why the heck was she acting like she was so big sister who had high expectations of her younger sister?
Tch. She was no better than Camilla for all I knew. She just had a more sophisticated way of bitching out.
I turned to her rolling my eyes as I scoffed. "You can’t be serious."
Trust Rosa to completely ignore . I took a step closer to the dead pigs, her brows furrowing. Then, she crouched down and inspected the bodies with the kind of attention one might use when solving a cri.
I held my breath. This was Rosa. The Smart One. If anyone in my family had a brain, it was her. She had to see that this wasn’t .
She glanced at , sharp-eyed. "What did you use to butcher them?"
OKAY, I TAKE THAT BACK.
My mouth fell open. "Excuse ?"
She stood up, crossing her arms. "There’s not a single weapon around, and you don’t have a scratch on you. Not to ntion," she looked pointedly at my hands, "you don’t have blood on you."
"That’s because I didn’t do it!" I nearly scread.
Camila rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, and if you didn’t do it, who did?"
"I—" I hesitated. "I don’t know."
Camila snorted, crossing her arms. "Right. Convenient."
Rosa shot her a look. "Camila, let the smart people try to figure this out."
Ouch. Hehehe. As much as I didn’t like Rosa much, I loved her subtle jabs that kept Camilla in her place at tis like this.
Camila gasped in outrage. "Excuse ?" She turned to my father with an exaggerated pout. "Are you hearing this? Rosa always acts like she’s better than !"
Father sighed, rubbing his temples like he was exhausted. "Camila, be quiet. Rosa, respect your little sister more."
Rosa scoffed. "I am trying to respect her, Papá. I’m trying to think."
She turned back to , frowning. "You claim you don’t know what happened here. But whoever did this must have made a lot of noise. Pigs don’t die quietly, María José."
Gosh, the more I thought about this, the weirder it got. How co I didn’t notice a thing? Didn’t hear a thing? What sort of slumber did I drift into?
I fiddled my fingers. "I—I didn’t hear anything."
She squinted her eyes. "How is that possible?"
"I don’t know!"
Our father chuckled darkly. "Maybe because she’s a liar."
I felt like I was losing my mind.
"You want to be guilty!" I burst out, glaring at him. "You need to be guilty! It’s easier than accepting that sothing else happened here!"
"You will watch your mouth, María José!" Father fired back at .
Rosa ignored my outburst and continued inspecting the scene. She was like a detective in one of those cri shows—except instead of helping , she was making sound even more guilty.
"Okay," she said, as if she were drawing logical conclusions. "So you were here all night. You didn’t hear anything. You weren’t hard. But the pigs were all slaughtered. That ans one of two things: either you’re lying, or sothing killed them without making a sound."
I stiffened.
That second option sounded way too close to the truth.
But before I could say anything—
"Señor!" One of the workers ca running, panting heavily. "Mateo!"
My heart did a flop. I almost wished to be swallowed by the earth. Did they find him already?
How could I look him in the eyes after such a blatant accusation? I hope he’ll understand.
Everyone’s attention snapped to the worker who brought the news.
Rosa lifted a brow. "Who the hell is Mateo?"
"My witness," I whispered, aning to say that to myself but ended up blurting it out loud.
The worker wiped the sweat off his brow and pointed behind him. "We searched the entire estate, patrón. We only found two Mateos."
He stepped aside.
And out they ca.
Two.
Two Mateos.
I blinked.
Then blinked again, my throat dry as my gaze darted between them.
Neither of these n looked anything like the Mateo I had spent the night with in the pigsty.
What in the na of the Moon Goddess was going on?!
The first was tall and broad, his thick arms covered in dirt. His face was permanently set in a scowl as if life itself had personally offended him. His hair was cut short, and his eyes were cold—taking in the situation with the kind of wariness that ca from years of knowing better.
The second was shorter, stockier, with thinning hair and a mustache that looked like it belonged to a villain in a cheap telenovela. He clutched his cap in both hands, fidgeting nervously, sweat beading at his temples as if he could already sense that being summoned here was a very bad thing.
I stared at them, my mouth slightly parted in shock. What the hell was going on here?
Why were there two Mateos and none of them looked anything like the one I had opened up to about my troubles and has so diligently listened?
Where was my Mateo?
The one who had sat with , who had spoken kindly, who had covered with his clothing?
The one whose na I had used to defend myself?
I could have sworn he had said his na was Mateo. Had I imagined it? Had he lied?
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