A 12-year-old girl spotted a single altered digit on his license plate… then quietly whispered, “Follow me.”

the mask was back on.

“Santiago,” she called softly. “There you are.”

The fake driver looked your way.

So did the guard.

So did the man on the motorcycle.

You stepped out from behind the column.

Valeria moved toward you, slow and composed, as though there were no fake car waiting to erase you.

“Darling,” she said. “Why are you hiding?”

You looked at her.

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