Dressed in a dark skirt and a simple blouse she had borrowed from Maria’s studio, she glided silently through the house’s marble hallways. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet sounded like a gunshot in the stillness of the night. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid someone might hear it. She was carrying the small
She clutched the trunk with the jewels to her chest, aware that it contained not only her future, but also the lives of Tomás and their unborn child. In the garden, Tomás waited for her by the orange trees, whose silhouettes were barely visible in the darkness. He had managed to obtain civilian clothes from one of the merchants who frequented the plantation, exchanging them
secretly working extra shifts. He no longer looked like a slave, but an ordinary young worker. “Ready,” he whispered as Isabella approached. “As ready as I can be to leave a life behind,” she replied, trying to sound braver than she felt.
