“You’re standing on land my father bought twenty-six years ago,” I said in a calm, low voice, touching the thin gold band on my index finger.

Samuel stepped forward beside me, took the red leather ledger from the officer’s hands, and cleared his throat softly before opening the thick cover.

“On April fourth, 1998, the Varela Trust acquired clear title to these sixty acres in Valle de Bravo, recorded under volume 412 of the state land registry,” Samuel read aloud, his formal voice carrying complete authority.

A female cousin in the third row let out a small gasp and took half a step back toward the edge of the fountain.