I was almost certain that Elisa had paid Franco with the pocket watch to kill me. She must be in town—or had been recently. Now the only question was whether or not Mayra had something to do with her. She was the only one who’d had access to my traveling plans. Could it be possible that Mayra was, in fact, Elisa?

Maybe she didn’t care that Alberto was her brother, maybe she just wanted to take revenge on the family by ruining them.

My head would explode at any moment now. There was too much information to sift through. I couldn’t make sense of anything anymore.

I just wanted to flee this place and never come back.

Either that or confess who I was and wait until Elisa or whoever was behind Cristóbal’s murder would come forward.

“More coffee?” Julia asked, holding a metal pot with warm milk in one hand and a small glass container of coffee essence in the other. I was alone in the dining room attempting to have breakfast, but I hadn’t touched my fruit salad yet.

“Yes, please,” I said.

Julia poured milk and coffee into my cup.

“How is your cousin doing, Julia?” I asked.

“Mayra?” She shook her head. “That girl is incorrigible, but I think she’s fine with Don Martin.”

The sole mention of his name hurt.

“I never got a chance to thank you for what you did for her,” Julia said, setting the plates on the table for the rest of the family.

“Don’t thank me,” I said. “Thank Martin.” I grabbed a croissant from a wicker basket. “So how are you and Mayra related?”

“Our mothers were sisters,” she said. “I’m the one who got her the job at Mr. Aquilino’s after her mother passed away and she needed a place to live. If I’d known the kind of person she really was, I would’ve never recommended her.”

“Don’t be so hard on her,” I said. “She just fell in love.”

“I suppose. That’s what she says, anyway.”

I took a bite of bread, but nearly choked when I saw Martin entering the room.

“Buenos días,” he said.

“Don Martin, you’re here early,” Julia said. “Would you like some breakfast?”

He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. “Sure.”

Julia dashed into the kitchen while Martin took a seat in front of me.

“You deserve an explanation,” he said, his body leaning forward, his voice urgent.

“There’s nothing to explain. Angélica already told me you’ve been lovers since you were youngsters.”

He rested his palms on the table. “I know it looks bad, but I had nothing to do with what happened to you on that ship. I swear.”

“What about her?”