I didn’t expect that to hit.
But it does.
Hard.
For a second, I freeze.
Everything I was going to say—gone.
My mouth dry.
My heart pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears.
Say something.
Say something, Stella.
The beep cuts through the silence.
And I close my eyes.
Then I speak.
“Hola… Señor Cortés.”
My voice is steady.
Stronger than I feel.
“You don’t know who I am… pero yo sé quién es usted.”
But I know who you are.
I swallow.
Push through.
“You had a relationship with my mother. Hace más de veinte años… en Valle de Bravo.”
More than twenty years ago… in Valle de Bravo.
My fingers tighten around the phone.
“She wrote to you. Te llamó.”
She called you.
“You never answered.”
The words land sharper now.
Less shaky.
More controlled.
“My name is Stella Cortéz.”
I let that sit.
