Beside her, the hired driver kept both hands on the wheel, slowing as the road narrowed into a wide private asphalt drive between hand-cut stone walls.

In the second row, Alejandro adjusted his collar, his eyes fixed on the pine trees lining both sides of the lane.

Paola leaned forward from the middle seat, holding up her phone to record the pine forest through the tinted glass.

“Where does this private road go?” Paola asked, her voice tight.

“I thought she was renting a room in some public village.”

“It goes nowhere,” Doña Victoria insisted, her mouth a thin line.