Page 83 of Forbidden Fate

But I remembered that.

I still do.

Maybe because I needed to believe it.

Maybe because a boy growing up in a brothel needs someone to tell him he wasn’t born dirty.

The women here cared for me. Fed me. Nursed me when I had fevers. Cheered when I learned a lesson well.

What they did behind closed doors for money didn’t matter to me.

It never did.

They were my mother’s friends.

They were my family.

I grew up much more comfortable with women than with men. After all, men wanted something from me. Loyalty. Obedience. Violence.

Yes, women made me feel at ease.

Except for the one woman who put more fear into me than even Diego Vega himself.

I’m fifteen. A week has passed since we buried my mother.

One week since the cemetery dirt hit her coffin with soft, horrible thuds. One week since Señora V stood beside me in black, her hand clamped around mine so hard my fingers went numb.

One week since I looked at the hole in the ground and understood that Esperanza Moreno was not coming back.

Everyone says her death was quick.

The car veered off the road into a ditch. That’s what the police told us. She was out with a client. A man I never met. A man whose name I still don’t know.

The road was wet. Maybe he was speeding. Maybe he swerved. Maybe the tires lost traction.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

The car went off the road, and by the time anyone found them, my mother was gone.

I’m in my room above the back hallway, sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees. The house is quieter than usual. The women have been careful around me since the funeral. Too careful. They stop talking when I enter rooms. They bring food I don’t ask for. They touch my shoulder and then pull away.

Señora Valentina has made it clear I can stay.

“You’re mine now,” she told me after the funeral. “You stay here until you’re eighteen, but you’ll have to go to regular school now. You get good grades. Then you go somewhere better. You live the life Esperanza wanted for you.”

Eighteen is three years away. That feels like a life sentence when your mother has just been lowered into the ground. And school?

“Why can’t you and the ladies continue to teach me?” I asked.

Señora hugged me. “You’ve outgrown us, Cruzito. We have nothing more to teach you. At school, the teachers are trained. They’ll teach you history, mathematics, literature. Things the ladies and I know nothing about.”

I know she’s right, but how am I supposed to go there? I’ll have no friends, and the others will whisper about where I live.

I look around my room.