For a second he thought it was exhaustion playing a cruel trick on him. But no. There was no doubt. The woman from the car, the one with the flat tire, the same one he had helped minutes before… was now sitting on the dais, wearing a black robe, surveying the courtroom with authority.
The judge.
The person who would decide if he lost everything… or if he still had a chance.
She recognized it too.
It was barely a blink, a slight tension in the serious face she wore, but Andrés noticed it. Their eyes met for a second that felt too long.
Then she resumed her professional demeanor.
—Let’s proceed—he said in a firm voice—. Case number 2487/25. Aguilar against Herrera. Labor lawsuit for justified dismissal and claim for damages.
Andrés swallowed and took a seat next to his court-appointed lawyer, an older man named Licenciado Rojas, who seemed more tired than interested.
“You’re late,” Rojas whispered. “Again.”
—I know… but…
Andrés opened his briefcase to take out the USB drive.
And then he felt the emptiness.
He checked again.
Then another one.
Then he began to search desperately.
