I’m ready to explore my new home.

The estate is huge, much bigger than I thought yesterday. Besides the main house, there are also barracks for the two-hundred-plus guards who patrol the perimeter, and a number of houses occupied by other employees and their families. It’s almost like a small town—or maybe some type of military compound.

I learn all this from Ana over breakfast. Apparently Julian left instructions that I was to be fed and shown around when I woke up. Julian himself is occupied with work, as usual.

“Señor Esguerra has an important meeting,” Ana explains, serving me a dish she calls Migas de Arepa—scrambled eggs made with pieces of corn cakes and a tomato-onion sauce. “He asked me to look after you today, so please let me know if you need anything. After breakfast I can have Rosa give you a tour if you like.”

“Thank you, Ana,” I say, digging into my food. It’s incredibly delicious, the sweetness of the arepas complementing the zesty flavor of the eggs. “A tour would be great.”

We chat for a bit as I finish up my meal. In addition to learning about the estate, I find out that Ana has lived in this house most of her life, having started as a young maid working for Julian’s father. “That’s how I learned English,” she says, pouring me a cup of frothy hot chocolate. “Señora Esguerra was American, like you, and she didn’t speak any Spanish.”

I nod, remembering Julian telling me about his mother. She had been a model in New York City before marrying Julian’s father. “So you knew Julian when he was a child?” I ask, sipping the hot, rich drink. Like the eggs, it’s unusually flavorful, with hints of clove, cinnamon, and vanilla.

“I did.” Ana stops there, as though afraid of saying too much. I give her an encouraging smile, hoping to prod her into telling me more, but she begins to clear off the dishes instead, signaling an end to the conversation.

Sighing, I finish my hot chocolate and get up. I want to learn more about my husband, but I have a feeling Ana may be just as close-mouthed on this topic as Beth.

Beth. The familiar pain shoots through me again, bringing with it a burning rage. Memories of her violent death are never far from my mind, threatening to drown me in hate if I let them. When Julian first told me about what he did to Maria’s attackers, I had been horrified… but now I understand it. I wish I could somehow lay my hands on the terrorist who killed Beth, make him pay for what he did to her. Even the knowledge that he’s dead doesn’t pacify my anger; it’s always there, eating at me, poisoning me from within.

“Señora, this is Rosa,” Ana says, and I turn toward the dining room entrance to see a young dark-haired woman standing there. She looks to be about my age, with a round face and a bright smile. Like Ana, she’s wearing a short-sleeved black dress with a white apron. “Rosa, this is Señor Esguerra’s new wife, Nora.”