In the hallway outside, Ethan stood with his phone to his ear, coordinating the next burden — the funeral. He had already begun the calls.
Maria's family had been difficult to reach. Finally, her mother answered. There was a pause on the other end when he told her the news.
Then: a soft gasp, and a wail. "No… no, please no," her mother sobbed. "My baby—"
A moment later, a man's voice thundered through the receiver. "You dare cry for her now? That disgrace! That whore! She brought shame on this family!"
"Please, Hector," the woman whispered faintly. "Let us bury her properly—"
"She's not our daughter," the man barked. "She died the moment she ran away from her husband. Let them do what they want. I don't want her name spoken in this house again."
And then — a click.
The line went dead.
