Page 84 of Forbidden Fate

The narrow bed. The small dresser.

Too many memories. Too many ghosts. Maybe I don’t want to stay here. But where would I go?

I’m fifteen. I have no father. No money. No family besides the women in this house and my mother lying under fresh dirt.

My throat tightens until I can barely swallow.

“Mamá,” I say into the empty room. “Mamá, you weren’t supposed to go.”

I hate it. I hate myself for sounding weak and helpless.

So I leave the room. Anything is better than sitting here. As I walk down the stairs, a knock sounds on the front door.

For a second, I think I imagined it. Grief does strange things.

Then the knock comes again.

Señora V is out. She went to speak with someone about funeral expenses. Most of the other women are sleeping or working.

I wipe my face with the heel of my hand, furious to find it wet, and head downstairs.

I sniff back my sadness. “I’m coming,” I call.

I reach the foyer, unlock the door, and open it.

A woman stands there. She’s tall. Taller than most women I know. Her hair is dark and smooth, pulled back from a face that would be beautiful if any warmth came from her. Instead, it’s like looking at ice.

“Cruz Moreno?” she asks.

I straighten. “Yes.”

She takes me in from my bare feet to my face, and something about the way she looks at me makes my skin crawl.

“My name is Adriana de la Fuente,” she says. “May I come in?”

I want to say no, but I was raised by women who would slap me for being rude to a caller. Especially a lady. I step aside, and she enters.

I close the door. “What do you want?”

“I came to offer my sympathies,” she says. “I heard about your mother. Esperanza, yes?”

Hearing Mamá’s name from her red mouth makes my stomach twist.

“Yes.”

“A terrible loss.”

I say nothing.

“I understand you’re alone now.”

“I’m not alone.”

“No?” She glances around the front room. “Señora Valentina is not your mother.”

“She might as well be.”

“You are loyal,” Adriana says. “That’s good. Loyalty is a useful trait in a young man.”