“Get out of here, you beggar!” — she ᴛʜʀᴇᴡ soapy water on the little homeless boy. She had no idea that five minutes later, she would lose everything.

“W-what… what did he see?” I whispered.

Vásquez smiled—but there was nothing kind about it.

“His stepmother dead. Murdered. And Don Roberto standing there with blood all over his hands.”

The world collapsed around me.

I had just rejected the only witness to a murder.
A child who was begging for safety.

“Miguelito saw everything from the staircase,” Vásquez continued. “He heard the screams, saw the fight, and witnessed the exact moment Don Roberto lost control.”

The other men stepped closer to my door. Now I could see they were holding something, though the shadows hid the details.

“The problem, Mrs. Morales,” Vásquez said, “is that you were very cruel to the only witness who could destroy my boss.”

He pulled an envelope from his jacket.

“Don Roberto is willing to be… generous. Fifty thousand dollars for your silence. And for assuring that if anyone asks, you never saw Miguelito today.”

The envelope dropped at my feet.

“But if you choose not to cooperate…”
The other men stepped forward.

Now I could see what they were holding.

Shovels.

“Let’s just say,” Vásquez finished calmly, “Don Roberto knows how to make problems… disappear.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they could hear it. I glanced toward María’s house, but all the lights were off.

“Where is Miguelito now?” I asked, my voice breaking.

Vásquez checked his watch.

“That’s the right question, Mrs. Morales. Because it turns out… the boy never went home.”

My veins turned to ice.

“After you chased him away with soapy water, Miguelito kept walking. And now…”
He paused dramatically.
“Now he’s lost somewhere in the city. A traumatized, soaking-wet child, cold, terrified—and carrying the secret of where his stepmother’s body is hidden.”

The men began walking toward my backyard.

“Don Roberto sent me here with a very simple mission,” Vásquez said as his men started digging.
“Find Miguelito before he talks to anyone. And erase any evidence that he was ever here.”

That was when I heard a sound that paralyzed me with terror.

A child’s cry.

It was coming from inside my house.