The words came out quickly.
"Someone lied to you. Or you have the wrong person."
Her hand lifted slightly, gesturing toward the photograph.
"That's Carlos Eduardo. He works in logistics in the city. He doesn't....."
Her voice suddenly faltered.
"He doesn't have enemies."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
And for the first time since the photograph appeared, fear began creeping into the edges of her grief.
A slow, cold realisation pressing at the back of her mind.
Because Santiago Torres Mendoza did not look like a man who made mistakes about death.
"Carlos is dead."
Santiago's voice cut cleanly through the room.
"And you are the murderer."
For a second Daniella did not understand the words.
They floated past her without meaning, like a language she did not speak.
Then they settled heavily in her chest.
Carlos is dead.
Something inside her gave way.
"No."
The word came out small.
Almost breathless.
