The attic disappeared. I looked at Veronica. She was reading my face, too. “What proof?” I asked. Her lips trembled. “I don’t know.” “Don’t lie to me.” “I don’t know, Valentina. I swear.” “Don’t swear to me!”
I stood up as best I could. The photos scattered beneath my feet. One fell face up. Mariana holding me. I was a few months old. She was thin, tired, but smiling. In the corner of the photo, barely visible, was Veronica looking at her. Not with tenderness. With sadness. Or guilt. I didn’t know how to tell the difference anymore.
I kept reading. “I also discovered something else. Mariana’s life insurance should never have been cashed out the way it was. There was a change of beneficiaries that I didn’t sign. My signature appears, but it isn’t mine. And there is a witness: Veronica Salcedo.”
I slowly raised my eyes. Veronica ran out of breath. “No,” she whispered. “Your signature is on my mother’s insurance.” “I didn’t know what that paper was.” I laughed. A broken laugh, identical to a sob. “How convenient.” “It was a document Elena put in front of me at the hospital. Mariana was in therapy. Your dad was with you. They told me it was to authorize medical expenses. I signed as a witness.” “My maternal grandmother?” Veronica nodded, weeping. “She hated Julian. She said he had stolen her daughter. She said you should grow up with the Navarros, not the Morales.”
The last name hit me. Navarro. My maternal family. The family I never saw. “You told me it hurt them to see me.” Veronica covered her face. “Because that’s what your dad told me at first. Later… later it was too late.” “Too late for what?” She didn’t answer. That was her answer.
