Chapter Twenty Seven
Valentina’s townhouse felt different this time — less like a museum, more like a woman bracing for something she had been dreading for decades. Files spread across her coffee table instead of the careful emptiness Amara remembered from their first meeting.
“Sit,” Valentina said, skipping her usual composed greeting, gesturing toward the couch across from her. “This is going to take a while, and I need you both to let me finish before you ask questions. It won’t make sense in pieces.”
Rafael and Amara sat, Rafael’s hand finding Amara’s on the cushion between them, a small anchor neither of them mentioned.
“Your father,” Valentina began, looking at Amara, “wasn’t just my brother’s accountant. He was his closest friend. The kind of friendship that is supposed to survi
