Her fingers trembled so badly she could barely grip the edge of the plastic.
For a second… she almost didn’t open it.
Because somewhere deep inside, she already knew—whatever was in there was going to change everything.
But she had come too far.
Slowly, she peeled the plastic open.
The smell hit her again—stronger, sharper, violent.
She gagged, turning her head, but forced herself to look.
Inside the bag were clothes.
Women’s clothes.
Folded… carefully.
A dress. A blouse. Underwear.
All stained. All ruined. All carrying that same sick, sour smell that had haunted her nights for months.
Her breath caught.
“This… isn’t possible…”
Her mind scrambled for a logical explanation. A mistake. A misunderstanding. Something harmless.
But nothing made sense.
Why would Miguel hide women’s clothes inside a mattress?
Why hide them at all?
Her chest tightened.
Then she saw it.
At the bottom of the bag… something small.
She reached in, her fingers brushing against damp fabric, and pulled it out.
