Valeria’s face changed. “My passport?”

“And the savings card,” I said softly. “And your grandmother’s earrings.”

Doña Rebeca’s hand went to her pearls. Small movement. Huge confession.

Salgado laid out the first page. It wasn’t dramatic. That’s the thing about evidence — it doesn’t need violins. It was a printed report listing the passport report date, the canceled savings card, and the missing jewelry Valeria had mentioned.

The next page was a still from the common-area camera: Doña Rebeca crossing the hallway with Valeria’s small document pouch in her hand.

“No bedrooms,” I said, because I wanted Valeria to hear it from me. “No bathrooms. Only common areas. I would never do that to you.”