For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Alejandro grabbed the fertility-clinic document.

I let him take it.

That surprised him.

He looked down at the photocopy, then back at me.

—Where did you get this?

I pulled Lucía closer to my side.

—That’s your first question?

His mother recovered faster than he did.

Doña Teresa bent down, picked up one of the broken pieces of Marisol’s cup, and placed it carefully on the table.

—Whatever you think you discovered, Valeria, you need to remember that family matters are complicated.

I almost laughed.

For ten years, “family is complicated” had been the sentence they used whenever something cruel needed to sound respectable.

Why did Teresa insult Lucía?

Family was complicated.

Why was Alejandro gone three nights a week?

Business was complicated.

Why did Marisol, supposedly a pediatric nurse, know exactly how Santiago liked his hair brushed before school?

Children became attached to caregivers. It was complicated.

Not anymore.

I took out my phone.

—My attorney is expecting me to call at six. If I don’t, she files everything tomorrow morning.

Alejandro’s head snapped toward me.

—Everything?

—Everything I found.

His mother’s confidence disappeared for the first time.