PART 1: THE WOMAN NO ONE SAW
Rodrigo Aranda was thirty-nine years old. He owned a mansion in Las Lomas, three cars he barely drove, and a technology company that appeared in business magazines as an example of Mexican success.
But inside his own home, Rodrigo was a stranger.
He never asked who ironed his shirts, who left his coffee ready every morning, or who arranged the towels with silent perfection. To him, everything simply appeared done.
Until that Tuesday.
Rodrigo came home earlier than usual because a meeting had been canceled. He walked in loosening his tie, thinking about emails, contracts, and numbers. Then he heard a dull thud from the service area.
He stopped.
The house fell silent.