The power entered quietly.

Salgado placed the folder beside the roast chicken. “Mr. Andrés, this is the temporary occupancy agreement you signed upon marriage to Valeria.”

Andrés grabbed the page. His eyes went straight to his signature. People always do that when they know they can’t deny the document — they search for the part of themselves that betrayed them in ink.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said.

“It means you were granted residence,” Salgado replied. “Not ownership.”

Doña Rebeca reached for the page. Salgado turned another document toward her. “This is your witness signature.”