Then she turned and walked out, leaving the study in darkness once more.

I let out the breath I had been holding.

“She was checking if anyone had touched it,” I said.

My father nodded slowly.

His face looked pale under the blue glow of the monitors.

“She is careful,” he said. “Too careful.”

A soft knock sounded at the heavy door of the monitoring room.

I jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My father pressed a button on the console, and the lock clicked open.

Ramiro slipped inside, smelling of the cold night air and wet grass.

He closed the door behind him and locked it.

Without a word, he handed my father the folded piece of cream paper.

My father took it.

His hands were trembling slightly, a rare sight for a man who had built an empire.

He unfolded the paper on the desk under the small reading lamp.

I leaned over his shoulder to read the words.

The handwriting was shaky, written in blue ink.

At the bottom of the page was Rosa’s signature.