Martina hid her face against my arm, whimpering softly.

“Rosa would never do that,” Martina whispered.

Patricia heard her and snapped her head toward my sister.

“You are too young to understand, Martina,” Patricia said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “People you trust will stab you in the back for a little bit of money.”

She stepped closer to Rosa, backing the older woman against the counter.

“Pack your bags,” Patricia ordered. “Get your coat and get out of this house before the police arrive to drag you out in handcuffs.”

Rosa looked at my father, her eyes pleading.

“Mr. Duarte, please,” Rosa said, her voice cracking. “I have worked for you for fifteen years.”

“And you have been planning this the whole time,” Patricia interrupted.

“I have never touched anything that did not belong to me,” Rosa said.

Patricia laughed, a cold, mocking sound.

“The evidence is right there on the counter, Rosa,” Patricia said. “You were caught red-handed.”

She picked up the silver pouch and shook it.

The diamonds clicked together inside the fabric.