Andrés stared at him. “You can’t remove me from my home.”

Salgado’s voice did not change. “It is not your home.”

That sentence landed harder than any shout could have.

Doña Rebeca grabbed her purse. “We are leaving,” she announced, trying to make retreat sound like command.

“No,” Valeria said.

Everyone turned. Her voice was small, but it was hers. She pointed toward the cabinet near the hallway. “My passport. My earrings. My savings card. If you took them, you’ll return them before you leave.”