“I’ve been quietly routing anonymous academic grants to Daniel and Alejandro’s universities for years,” he whispered desperately. “That’s how they paid for their degrees. It was all I could do.”
“You think money covers the cost of a missing father, Roberto?” Patricia said, stepping backward toward the iron gate. The man she had loved wasn’t a monster, but he was a coward who had chosen the comfort of a golden cage over the struggle of the truth.
“Patricia, please,” he begged, taking a step toward her. “If you go to the federal prosecutors, they will find out. They will destroy everything.”
“I’m not going to the prosecutors, Roberto,” Patricia said, wiping her face as she pushed open the pedestrian gate, looking back at him one last time. “I came here looking for a husband who was stolen from me. But I see now that the man I married really did die on August 23, 2006. Enjoy your fortress. Because my sons and I have a real life to live.”
She stepped out into the bright afternoon light of the city, leaving the ghost of Roberto Campos behind in his volcanic-rock prison, finally free of the shadow that had haunted her for seventeen years.
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