There was no audio on that camera.
But body language does not need audio.
Rosalía stepped back.
Paulina’s face sharpened.
Rosalía said something.
Paulina leaned close and pointed one finger at her chest.
Then Rosalía lowered her eyes and walked away, frightened.
Your pulse began to pound.
Rosalía had seen something.
That was why Paulina framed her.
Not because of a bracelet.
Because Rosalía had caught your wife inside your private files.
You switched to camera 2, the one near the east hallway. It captured part of the sound from the adjacent foyer.
You turned up the volume.
Paulina’s voice came through, cold and clear.
“You didn’t see anything.”
Rosalía’s voice trembled.
“Señora, those are the children’s papers. The señor should know.”
Paulina laughed softly.
“The señor knows what I decide he knows.”
“Please, señora. I don’t want trouble.”
“Then don’t create it.”
There was a pause.
Then Paulina said the sentence that made your blood go cold.
“If you open your mouth, I’ll make sure everyone believes you came here to steal from us.”
You stopped the video.
For one second, you couldn’t breathe.
She had warned Rosalía before doing it.
She had planned every step.
You heard movement outside your office and quickly minimized the screen. Paulina opened the door without knocking, wearing a silk robe and a sleep mask pushed up into her hair. She looked annoyed, not guilty.
“You’re still awake?” she asked.
You turned in your chair.
“Yes.”
She walked in and glanced toward the monitors.
“Why are you watching the cameras?”
“To understand what happened.”
Her mouth tightened for half a second.
Then she sighed dramatically.
“Héctor, I know you liked her, but some people are very good at pretending. That woman fooled all of us.”
All of us.
You nearly laughed.
Instead, you leaned back.
“Did she?”
Paulina crossed her arms.
“Don’t start. I had a horrible day. Your sons screamed like animals, the police were here, and now you’re acting like I did something wrong.”
Your sons.
Not our sons.
You noticed that too.
“You didn’t comfort them,” you said.
She rolled her eyes.
“They were being hysterical.”
“They watched the woman who raised them get taken away in handcuffs.”
“She is an employee, Héctor.”
“She is family to them.”
Paulina’s face hardened.
“That is exactly the problem. You let servants become too comfortable. Now the children think that woman matters more than their own mother.”
You stared at her.
There it was.
Not just contempt.
Jealousy.
Rosalía loved the boys with the patience Paulina never had. She knew which twin hated peas, which one had nightmares after thunderstorms, which one pretended to be brave when he was scared. She knew the songs that calmed them and the stories that made them laugh.
Paulina knew how to dress them for Christmas photos.
And that was not the same thing.
“You should sleep,” you said.
Her eyes narrowed.
“That’s it?”
“For tonight.”
She studied you, suspicious.
Then she turned and walked toward the door.
Before leaving, she looked back.
“Don’t become sentimental over a maid.”
Your hand tightened into a fist under the desk.
But you let her go.
Because Gabriel was right.
Anger would give her time to lie.
Evidence would give Rosalía freedom.
At 3:20 in the morning, Gabriel called again.
