Carolina looked up, feeling a punch in her stomach. "My fault? You were the one who pushed her. You were the one who stole. You were the one who lied." "I did it for you!" he roared, pointing an accusing finger at her. "So you could live like a queen, you useless thing! And this is how you repay me?"
A cheap moving truck, hired with the last few pesos Carolina had hidden in a piggy bank, hauled away what little they could salvage. No fine furniture, just clothes and a few boxes. As the truck drove off, Carolina glanced at the mansion one last time. It no longer resembled a palace. It looked like a marble tomb. "It's over," she whispered. "It was all a lie."
Fate was cruel, or perhaps, just. They ended up in a two-room apartment in the Doctores neighborhood. A place where the walls heard everything, the pipes dripped rust, and the neighbors' music echoed until dawn. The "Palace" had been replaced by a tenement. The silence of a museum, by the noise of the street.
Rodrigo threw himself down on an old mattress they'd bought at a flea market. He stared at the peeling ceiling, a bottle of cheap tequila clutched in his hand. "I'm going to get it all back," he slurred, drunk. "You'll see. I'm a financial genius." But Carolina, watching him from the corner of the room, knew that this man was no longer a genius. He was an empty shell filled with resentment. And for the first time in years, she felt an immense emptiness in her chest. Something was missing. Or rather, someone was missing. "Mom..." she thought, closing her eyes. "Where are you? Are you cold? Forgive me, Mom... forgive me."
