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Daniela’s shoulders roll forward as she cups her elbows.
I want to comfort her. But every time I inch toward her, she moves farther away. Forcing her into my arms isn’t the answer. Even I can see that.
“What about Valentina?” I urge, keeping my voice low and steady. Although it’s not easy, because I feel powerless right now. And I despise that feeling more thananything.
She tips her head back and squeezes her eyes so tight her beautiful face contorts into someone almost unrecognizable. Not Daniela but a haunted young woman with despair and agony woven into every line, every crease.
A mournful wail twists from her body as the demons are exorcised from the darkest corners of her soul. “Valentina isn’t ...” She draws a ragged breath.
“She isn’t Isabel’s daughter.”
* * *
