“What? He wouldn’t…” I stop, think about what Santiago had said when he’d wanted to leave the reception, but I’d refused. “No, Abel,” I say, shaking my head. “Dad’s dead. He wouldn’t fake that.” Not knowing what it would do to me, to us. “What happens now? What do you want?”

He checks his watch. “Just shut up. I need to think.” He reaches for the open duffel on a chair and starts to gather up the clothes strewn about the place, tossing them into the bag haphazardly.

My legs feel weak, and I perch on the edge of the bed. I close both hands over my stomach as Abel’s eyes fall once again to it.

“Did you have anything to do with the explosion that killed Santiago’s family and all those other men?”

“Wow. You really think I’d do something like that?”

“You were jealous of him. Of how Dad was with him.”

“I got over that. That explosion, as you call it, was a gas leak as far as I know. If anything, The Society is indebted to me for bringing to light the families breaking their laws, potentially getting IVI into serious trouble. Not that they’d ever acknowledge me. Although now that Dad’s gone…” He trails off, eyes distant momentarily before focusing back on me. “But I’m sure your husband has made sure I’ll never climb the rungs of their precious ladder. You know it’s a pretty discriminatory system. But no, I guess you wouldn’t know that, not as Mrs. De La Rosa. I arranged that, you know. That was me. I didn’t even get so much as a thank you though, did I?”

I don’t tell him his purpose was self-serving. Instead, I watch his expression darken as he seems to disappear into his thoughts. I take in his ragged appearance and see the half-empty pack of cigarettes.

“Did you have anything to do with Colette’s kidnapping?” I ask.

His forehead furrows. “Who the fuck is Colette?”

“Jackson Montgomery’s wife.”

“Oh. That was Holton, I guess. He was getting a little desperate. I told him it was a stupid idea. You mess with a man’s wife and kid, well…” he pauses, eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “There’s no coming back from that, is there?”

My phone rings then. I’d almost forgotten that I had it with me.

“You have a fucking phone with you?” he asks, furious.

I reach into my pocket as the call goes to voicemail but it starts to ring again immediately. It’s Santiago. I see his name on the screen.

“You do not answer that!” Abel roars, lunging for the phone.

I’m on my feet in an instant. “Let me talk to him. I can help you. I can tell him—”

He grabs the phone from my hand and throws it so hard against the far wall I see it smash.