At my husband’s funeral, my son squeezed my hand. And he whispered, “You’re no longer part of this family.”

Valeria smiled.

Like she had already won.

Then they left.

The tracker moved again.

Back toward my house.

I followed at a distance.

Watched them unlock the door.

Walk in.

Like everything belonged to them now.

I stayed outside.

My hands shaking.

Then I left.

Returned to the café.

Opened my laptop.

Logged into Eduardo’s email.

And found a message.

Scheduled.

For me.