Then, children’s voices, hurried footsteps, the cry of a baby.
The door opened slowly.
The man who appeared was not the impeccably dressed Carlos she saw every morning at the office. Holding a baby in one arm, dressed in an old t-shirt and a stained apron, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes, Carlos froze when he saw her.
“Mrs. Mendoza…?” his voice was a thread of fear.
“I came to see why my office is dirty today, Carlos,” she said with a chilling coldness.
Laura tried to enter, but he instinctively blocked her way. At that moment, a child’s piercing scream broke the tension. Without asking permission, Laura pushed open the door.
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