“Mother?”
“Yes?”
“If someone used this room recently, there should be signs.”
Mother Caridad followed her gaze.
The floor was dusty.
Everywhere except near the far wall.
A narrow line beneath the curtains appeared cleaner than the rest.
Together, they drew the fabric aside.
Behind it stood a small door Mother Caridad had forgotten.
It opened into a storage alcove built into the thickness of the stone wall.
The lock had been broken long ago.
Inside were folded blankets, an empty water pitcher, and a wooden chest.
Esperanza’s breath caught.
“That is the box.”
Mother Caridad lifted it carefully onto the table.
The wood was dark with age. Its brass clasp opened without resistance.
Inside lay several documents tied with blue ribbon.
There was Esperanza’s original consent form.
A letter from Elena withdrawing from the arrangement.
A statement signed by Doctor Paloma.
And beneath them, three sealed envelopes.
