Page 176 of When Lies Unfold

And I look like absolute shit.

Although my fractured ribs aren’t visible, everything else is. My left eye’s swollen shut, the bruise along my right cheekbone is now a lovely shade of purple, and my skin is scabbed from where Hidalgo’s ring broke the surface.

I consider myself lucky that my hands and legs are still in working order.

Just a little longer… I’ve been silently reciting this while I wait for Agent Garcia to make contact.

I’ve already contemplated what to do if she doesn’t do so within the forty-eight-hour window she set. Scenarios flitted through my mind, but the end result is always the same.

I will kill Hidalgo Carrera, regardless of the cost.

The deep voice from the guard standing outside my room drifts beneath the door. “Not supposed to let anyone in.”

Irritation colors the woman’s voice. “Mrs. Carrera’s suffering from her menstrual cycle. I’m here with the necessities to alleviate her discomfort.”

An awkward beat of silence lingers. “I’ll need to inspect everything.”

“Of course you will,” the woman scoffs. “I’d report you for negligence if you didn’t.”

A moment later, suspicion drenches the guard’s tone. “What’s this for?”

While Hidalgo’s the reason I don’t have a uterus, I still have my ovaries and cervix. I don’t normally have painful cramping similar to when my female parts were all fully intact, but with the high-stress situation I’m in, my body is quite upset at the moment.

“For alleviating her menstrual cramps, of course. From what I can tell, Mrs. Carrera’s ovaries are?—”

“That’s enough.” Like most men, the guard balks and rushes on with, “Go ahead.”

The outside lock on the door clicks before the guard draws it open, allowing the woman inside.

“Make it quick,” he warns before slamming the door shut.

In her starched staff uniform, hair perfectly coiffed per Hidalgo’s standards, the woman rushes toward the dresser. I scan her critically, wondering how long she’s been working for him.

She lifts her tray to the wooden surface, and her eyes meet my good one in the mirror’s reflection.

I wonder if she knows how horrific her boss is or if she simply doesn’t give a shit.

God knows I was once surrounded by dozens of employees paid to look the other way. Even if they didn’t want to, the threat on their life and those of their loved ones was always enough to ensure their silence.

The woman’s tone is polite and businesslike as she surveys me from head to toe. When she doesn’t register the slightest bit of concern on her features, I suppose that answers my question.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Carrera?”

“I’ve been better.”

I’m careful with my response, because I know Hidalgo has every inch of this place wired for surveillance. This room may not have a camera—at least not one I could detect—but I’m confident I’m monitored by audio.

“Are you still suffering from abdominal cramps?”

I squint at her but instantly regret the facial expression that causes pain to lance through me. My tone is wary. “Yes.”

“Just as I thought.” Her tone is conversational. “It’s best to have something on hand for the discomfort.”

Every fiber in my body tenses, because something feels off about this. I can’t pinpoint if it’s her eerily calm tone or the strange fact that she’s questioning me about my menstrual cramps. Hidalgo never wanted to know a thing about that, let alone permitted it to be mentioned.

I edge a step backward, my back flush with the window barred from the outside. Frantically, I scan the room for any available weapon, but the only one I have is the metal track I removed from the middle dresser drawer.

The same dresser she’s standing in front of.

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