Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

needed to talk about the future.

And Nicolás Herrera had laughed.

It was a hollow, cruel sound that I still heard in my darkest nightmares. “Do not try to trap me with a bastard child to save your meal ticket,” he had sneered.

Then he opened the heavy oak front door to the freezing rain.

I walked out with one suitcase, twenty dollars in my pocket, and continue reading …