Then the 9 p.m. news aired.
“Dramatic developments at the central penitentiary…”
Ramiro’s face filled the screen.
Dolores froze.
She had seen those eyes before.
Thirty years ago.
Another man.
Another conviction.
Another innocent life destroyed while she was too inexperienced to save him.
He spent fifteen years in prison before the truth surfaced.
By then, he had lost everything.
Dolores never forgave herself.
Now she saw it again.
The same eyes.
The same desperate innocence no one believed.
Her doctor had forbidden stress.
Her family had begged her to rest.
Dolores picked up her phone.
“Carlos,” she said. “Get me everything about the Fuentes case. Everything.”
SANTA MARÍA HOME
The Santa María Home stood on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by old trees and unsettling quiet.
Dolores arrived the next morning, armed with an expired credential and the determination of someone who had nothing left to lose.
Carmela Vega, the seventy-year-old director, received her cautiously.
