Chapter 13 - The Man Behind R-17
“Gabriel!”
My mother’s scream echoed through the underground room.
The name hung in the air.
I stared at the metal door.
Mia clung to my hand.
Mariana pulled her closer.
Lucía stood completely still.
Marta whispered:
“No…”
The handle stopped turning.
Then came a man's voice from the other side.
“Ofelia.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I had never heard fear in her voice like that.
“Is that him?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Your father.”
I stared at her.
“The man who raised me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at me.
“Gabriel Ortega.”
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
He was older than the photograph.
Gray threaded through his dark hair.
His face was lean.
His eyes were the same eyes I had seen in my own reflection for thirty-nine years.
He looked at me.
Then at Mia.
Then at Mariana.
He said nothing.
I couldn't move.
Mia hid behind me.
Gabriel noticed.
His expression softened.
“Mia.”
She shook her head.
“Don't come closer.”
He stopped.
“I won't.”
I looked at him.
“You're Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
“You're my biological father.”
He nodded.
“I believe so.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You believe so?”
“DNA can tell us what blood says. It doesn't tell us who raised you.”
I stared at him.
“You knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since before you were born.”
My mother turned away.
I looked at her.
“You knew he was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me believe he was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel answered.
“Because if you knew who I was, they would have used you against me.”
I turned toward him.
“Who?”
“The people who built R-17.”
Marta stepped forward.
“You told us R-17 was finished.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“It was never finished.”
“What does that mean?”
He walked toward the table.
His eyes fell on the seven files.
“It means the children were never the operation.”
I already knew that sentence.
My father had written it.
But hearing Gabriel say it made something click.
“The children were evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Evidence of what?”
Gabriel looked at my mother.
“Your father discovered that the Ortega family wasn't only moving money.”
“What were they moving?”
“People.”
Mariana's face went pale.
Gabriel continued.
“Children from families who refused to cooperate were transferred through private medical facilities.”
Marta closed her eyes.
“I knew some of it.”
“You knew enough,” Gabriel said.
“And you did nothing.”
“I tried.”
“Then why were you involved?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Because I was one of them.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“I helped build the network.”
My mother looked down.
“You never told him.”
“I was trying to protect him.”
“You were trying to protect yourself,” I said.
Gabriel accepted the accusation without defending himself.
“I deserved that.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you order Mia's transfer?”
“No.”
“Did you sign the adoption order?”
“Yes.”
My hands curled into fists.
“You signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought it would keep her alive.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
Mariana stepped forward.
“You signed away our daughter.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“I signed a document that made the people hunting her believe she belonged to someone else.”
“And you expected us to believe that was protection?”
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
“A desperate attempt to keep her alive.”
Mia spoke from behind me.
“Grandpa Gabriel?”
The room went silent.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Yes?”
“Are you my grandpa?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
Mia stepped out slightly.
“Mom said you were bad.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“She wasn't wrong.”
Mia frowned.
“But you saved me.”
Gabriel looked at Lucía.
“Lucía did.”
Lucía shook her head.
“We both did.”
Mia looked at me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Can we go home?”
The question broke something inside me.
I crouched beside her.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
I stood.
“We're leaving.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Not yet.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“Because Mauricio has the archive.”
“He's outside.”
“He wants this room.”
“Why?”
“Because the documents here prove he continued R-17 after your father's death.”
I looked at the files.
“What did he do?”
“Your father shut the operation down.”
“And Mauricio restarted it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel's expression hardened.
“Money.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
He pointed toward the seven folders.
“Control.”
I opened one.
The child's name was followed by a list of companies.
I opened another.
Another family.
Another company.
The pattern was clear.
The children had been used as pressure against their parents.
But one folder was different.
The seventh.
I opened it.
The name had been blacked out.
Only one line remained visible.
STATUS: MISSING
I looked at Marta.
“Who was this child?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Gabriel looked at the file.
His face changed.
“I do.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
I grabbed the folder.
“Who?”
He whispered:
“My daughter.”
I stared at him.
“Mia?”
“No.”
Lucía stepped forward.
“My sister.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Lucía's voice trembled.
“Gabriel had another daughter.”
I stared at her.
“Before Mia?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
Gabriel looked away.
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Years before Mia was born.”
“Who took her?”
“We never found out.”
I looked at the seventh file.
The missing child's identity had been erased.
“Why was she in R-17?”
“Because her disappearance started the investigation.”
My father had not created R-17 to control people.
He had created it to find a missing child.
Then the system had been corrupted.
The children became leverage.
Mia became one of them.
I looked at Gabriel.
“What was her name?”
He hesitated.
Then said:
“Isabela.”
Lucía suddenly stepped backward.
“No.”
“What?”
She stared at the file.
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabela was found.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Gabriel looked stunned.
“What did you say?”
“She was found.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Where?”
Lucía's face had gone white.
“In Guadalajara.”
Gabriel grabbed the edge of the table.
“Who found her?”
“I did.”
“You never told me.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why?”
Lucía stared at him.
“Because she didn't know who she was.”
My mother whispered:
“Where is she now?”
Lucía didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Where?”
Lucía looked at Mia.
Then at me.
“She was raised under another name.”
My heart started pounding.
“What name?”
She opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the lights went out.
Mia screamed.
I pulled her toward me.
Mariana held her.
Someone slammed against the metal door.
Then another impact.
Mauricio shouted:
“Adrián!”
Gabriel moved toward the door.
“Stay back.”
A gunshot cracked outside.
Mia cried.
I covered her ears.
Mariana dropped behind the table with her.
Marta pulled my mother down.
Another shot.
The metal door shook.
Gabriel looked at me.
“There is another exit.”
“Where?”
“Behind the archive wall.”
I grabbed the nearest flashlight.
We moved.
Gabriel pushed aside a filing cabinet.
A narrow opening appeared.
“One at a time.”
Mia went first with Mariana.
Then Marta.
My mother followed.
Lucía stopped beside me.
“You need to know something.”
“What?”
She leaned close.
“Your mother didn't sign the adoption order because she wanted to give Mia away.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“She signed it because someone had already taken another child.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
“Your father's.”
“My father's what?”
“Another daughter.”
“Isabela?”
Lucía shook her head.
“No.”
I felt a cold chill.
“Then whose daughter?”
Lucía looked toward the door.
“Yours.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
She whispered:
“Before Mia was born, you had a daughter you never knew existed.”
The words made no sense.
“I've never had another child.”
“You did.”
“Who was she?”
“Your mother knew.”
I turned toward Ofelia.
She was already crying.
“Mother?”
She looked at me.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From the truth.”
“What truth?”
She couldn't answer.
The metal door behind us began to bend inward.
Mauricio was breaking through.
I grabbed my mother's arm.
“Who was my first daughter?”
She looked at Mariana.
Then at Mia.
Then finally at me.
Her lips trembled.
“Her name was Isabela.”
Everything stopped.
Lucía closed her eyes.
Gabriel whispered:
“No.”
My mother continued.
“She was born before you married Mariana.”
I stared at her.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You told me I never had another child.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because you were seventeen.”
I felt sick.
“Who was her mother?”
My mother looked at me.
A tear ran down her cheek.
“Lucía.”
I turned toward her.
Lucía was crying.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” my mother said.
Lucía shook her head.
“I was sixteen.”
I couldn't breathe.
“You and Lucía had a daughter?”
Gabriel looked stunned.
“My son…”
“I was a child.”
Lucía stepped closer.
“They took her from us.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I stared.
“The man who raised me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he discovered who you really were.”
I couldn't understand.
Then the pieces collided.
Gabriel.
My father.
Lucía.
Isabela.
R-17.
Mia.
The adoption papers.
The forged DNA tests.
The missing child.
The door shook again.
Mauricio shouted:
“Adrián! You have no idea what you're holding!”
I looked down at the black folder.
A photograph had slipped from inside.
I picked it up.
It showed a teenage girl.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A small scar near her left eyebrow.
The same scar Mia had.
The same eyes.
But the photograph was dated thirteen years ago.
I looked at Lucía.
“That's Isabela.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
I turned the photograph over.
There was one sentence on the back.
SHE WASN'T THE CHILD THEY TOOK.
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Lucía stared at the photograph.
Then at Mia.
Her face suddenly filled with terror.
“Because the child in that picture wasn't Isabela.”
I looked at the girl again.
Then Lucía whispered:
“It's the woman who raised Mia.”
May you like
The metal door finally burst open.
And Mauricio stepped through holding a photograph of his own...
