The last thing I remembered was buying strawberries.

Getting the key out of my parents' house was a suicide mission for my case.

Hector had turned the house into a fortress, knowing the police were watching him. If Detective Cole applied for a search warrant for the music box, Hector’s lawyers would fight it in court for weeks, or worse, my mother would destroy the contents before the police could enter.

We needed a quiet entry. We needed someone Hector wouldn't suspect.

The next morning, while I was sitting up in bed eating my first real meal, the door opened, and a young woman stepped in, carrying a large bag of fresh clothes.

"Chloe?" I gasped.

It was my mother's twenty-four-year-old assistant—the very woman I had recorded stepping out of Room 114 at the Pines Motel.

Chloe looked terrified. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed with red, and she trembled as she closed the door behind her.

"Valeria," she whispered, her voice shaking violently. "I'm so sorry. Oh God, I'm so, so sorry."

I shrank back against my pillows, my jaw clenching. "What are you doing here? Did my father send you?"

"No!" Chloe cried, dropping the bag and rushing to the side of my bed, dropping to her knees. "No, Valeria, please listen to me! I didn't know he hurt you like this! They told me you were in a car accident! Hector told everyone you crashed your car!"

"He beat me into a coma, Chloe!" I yelled, my voice breaking. "Because I caught you with him!"

Chloe covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I was terrified of him, Valeria! You don't understand! He hired me at your mother's bakery, but then he started tracking my phone. He threatened to ruin my family’s business if I didn't meet him at that motel! He gave me envelopes of cash to keep me quiet, but I never wanted any of it!"

I stared at her, processing her words. Looking closely at Chloe, I saw the dark bruises under her thick makeup—finger-shaped bruises around her upper arms.

She wasn't a willing mistress. She was another victim of Hector Santos's insatiable desire for control.

"He's a monster, Valeria," Chloe wept, looking up at me. "When I saw the news that you woke up, and when I saw what he really did to you... I couldn't stay silent anymore. I went to Detective Cole this morning."

Detective Cole stepped into the room from the hallway, nodding to me. "Chloe came to the station three hours ago, Valeria. She's agreed to give a full statement regarding Hector’s extortion, financial illegalities, and physical abuse."

I looked at Chloe, the anger in my chest slowly resolving into a cold, shared understanding. "You still work at the house?"

"I'm supposed to go there at two o'clock to help your mother pack up some legal documents," Chloe said, wiping her face. "Hector isn't there—he's at his construction office meeting with his lawyers."

"The living room," I said instantly. "On the top shelf of the bookcase, there's a blue porcelain music box that plays Für Elise. Inside the velvet lining, there's a tiny brass key."

Chloe nodded frantically. "I know that music box! Your mother makes me dust it every week!"

"If you get that key," I said, reaching out with my good hand to grab her fingers, "and bring it to Detective Cole, we can open the bank box today. We can end this."