"You smell just like that man…" she murmured, almost absently.
He stilled. "Which man?"
"The father of my child," she said, the words slurring slightly but still heavy with meaning. "I don't even remember how that night was… I don't even remember who that man was." Her voice dropped, turning dark. "If I find him… I will definitely castrate him." It wasn't a joke. She meant every word.
Santiago's stomach twisted. He had been wondering how this had happened—how she'd ended up pregnant, how he'd gotten her into this mess. This confession didn't answer everything, but it twisted the knife in a new way. If he couldn't remember that night, if his memory was blank… why did he feel like she knew every detail but didn't want to speak out?
