She threw the stuffed rabbit onto the marble floor.

Rosa waited until Patricia’s high heels clicked all the way down the hallway before she knelt.

She picked up the rabbit, brushed off the dust, and handed it back to Martina.

“Go to your room, girls,” Rosa whispered. “I will bring up some hot chocolate.”

We did not know it then, but my father had never left the property.

The limousine had stopped at the edge of the estate, hidden by the trees.

He and Ramiro had slipped back inside through the basement entrance.

At that exact moment, they were sitting in the dark security monitoring room.

The blue glow of twenty screens illuminated my father’s pale, furious face.

He had watched the entire exchange on the high-definition cameras.

Ramiro stood behind him, his hands folded in front of his suit.

“You saw how she treated them,” Ramiro said quietly.

My father did not answer, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white.

On the central monitor, Patricia walked back into the empty living room.

She looked around to ensure Rosa and the rest of the staff were gone.

Then, she walked toward the sofa where Martina had left her school bag.

But she did not touch the bag.

Instead, she walked toward the corner of the room, looking at the stuffed rabbit Martina had dropped earlier.

My father leaned closer to the monitor.

On the screen, Patricia’s phone buzzed in her hand.

She answered it, her lips moving quickly, her eyes darting toward the hallway.

Ramiro reached for the volume dial on the console and turned it slowly.

Patricia’s voice came through the small speakers, thin and sharp.

“I have it,” she said into the phone.

She paused, listening to the person on the other end.

“No, he just left for the airport,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We have a window.”