To my maternal grandmother, for letting me tell the story of her house and her family. For explaining the saints’ lives to me and teaching me to listen to them. For talking to me about the dead who appear in a corner of the bedroom. To my mother, for believing in revenge. To my father and brother, because I know they’re proud of this story even if they won’t say so. To Sara and Munir, for being my first readers. To Victoria, my editor, for the corrections and the help, but most of all for believing in this novel. To José, because ever since I told him over the phone that my great-grandfather “lived off women,” he’s been part of the story that’s told in this book, and part of my story as well.