Silence, he had learned, could hide anything—pain, lies, decay. It had settled into his mansion after his wife’s death like a permanent guest, spreading from room to room until even the walls seemed to whisper less. The clocks still ticked, the staff still moved, the children still breathed… but life, real life, had withdrawn quietly, leaving behind something polished and hollow.

A real fear.

Roberto recognized him immediately because he had been seeing him in the mirror for a year.

“Nobody moves,” he said.

The room fell silent.

Even the twins fell silent.

Roberto took a step towards Elena.

—I want an explanation right now.

Gertrudis spoke first.

“Don’t listen to her, sir. That woman has been filling the children’s heads with nonsense. She sings them strange things. She talks to them about Mrs. Alma as if…”

He stopped too late.

Roberto fixed his eyes on her.

—Like what?

Gertrudis blinked.

—As if I had known her.

The silence became unbearable.

Roberto turned back to Elena.

-Answer.

The young woman pressed her lips together.

He seemed to be deciding between two misfortunes.