2. The Woman My Wife Feared Most
Melissa stiffened next to me, nails digging into my arm.
“What is she doing here?” she hissed. “Get her out. Right now. This is disrespectful.”
Two security men rushed in, grabbing Rosa as she fought to stay upright.
“Let me speak!” she begged. “Please—listen! Your mother wasn’t dead last night. I saw them. Men came through the back door and took her. She was breathing, Andrew. She was moving!”
The guards hauled her harder.
Melissa raised her voice, addressing the crowd with a brittle smile.
“Our housekeeper is confused. Grieving. She adored my mother-in-law and can’t accept what happened.”
“This woman.”
“Confused.”
“These people.”
Her tone cut deep. My mother had grown up with nothing. A seamstress before life turned around, she never forgot who she used to be—and she never let me forget either.
Rosa was kneeling now, sobbing. Not for herself.
For my mother.
“I know what I saw,” she whispered fiercely. “Your mother was alive when they took her. She moaned, Señor… I mean, Andrew. She tried to talk.”
My pulse pounded painfully.
I faced Melissa.
“Why was the casket shut before I came back? Why rush everything?”
Her jaw hardened.
“Andrew, honey… stop. You saw the certificate. You know what the doctor said. Your mother passed peacefully. Please don’t embarrass us.”
But the more she insisted, the less sense any of it made.
