Libia sat on her sofa, her face pale, hands trembling, and mouth dry, panic consuming her more and more. She was convinced she was going to die—or worse, be murdered in some horrible way.

"This has to be some cruel joke," she whispered, hugging herself tightly.

Esteban shook his head. "*Even in the grave, that woman won’t leave Libia alone!*" he thought bitterly.

"We’ll find a solution," Natalia assured her.

"No! You two can’t get involved. I don’t want to put you at risk. I’ll tell Dorantes—ma