The children stare at you like they are watching something impossible. Rosa’s hands cover her mouth, but she does not cry. Maybe she has no tears left for rich men who discover poverty only when it embarrasses them.
You lift your face.
“I thought you stole from me.”
Rosa’s eyes harden just a little.
“I know.”
That quiet answer cuts deeper than anger.
Because she knows exactly what you thought of her. She knows how easily you believed the worst. She knows that in your world, a missing diamond mattered more than a woman’s character.
You stand slowly, wiping your face with the back of your hand.
“Where is the ring?” you ask, but this time the question is not an accusation.
Rosa shakes her head. “I don’t know. I cleaned the bedroom, yes. But the ring was on the vanity when I left. Señora Valeria was there.”
Your body goes still.
“Valeria was there?”
