Chapter 3 - Twenty-Nine Missed Calls
For the next two days, I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the nursery.
The carpet.
The crib.
Sergio's back disappearing through the doorway.
And the phone sitting on that shelf.
Twenty-nine missed calls.
The number felt impossible.
Twenty-nine calls from Andrés.
Twenty-nine times someone had tried to reach me while I was unconscious.
But there was something I couldn't stop thinking about.
The twenty-ninth call hadn't been from Andrés.
It had been from Sergio.
I asked Detective Ruiz about it the following morning.
“Why would he call me after leaving?”
“We're investigating.”
“Did he know I had been rescued?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
She looked at me.
“That's what concerns us.”
My son was improving.
The doctors told me he had been dehydrated and frightened but was stable.
I couldn't stop crying when I heard that.
I wanted to hold him.
But my body wasn't ready.
So I sat beside the neonatal unit window and watched him sleep.
His tiny chest rose and fell.
My entire world had become that movement.
And for the first time since the bleeding began, I allowed myself to think about the future.
Not Sergio.
Not the money.
Not the marriage.
My son.
Then Andrés arrived.
He looked exhausted.
He hadn't slept properly since receiving my message.
He hugged me carefully.
“I thought I lost you.”
“I thought I lost him.”
“You didn't.”
We stood there silently.
Then he handed me a small plastic bag.
“What is that?”
“Something Teresa found.”
Inside was a tiny piece of paper.
I unfolded it.
There were three numbers written on it.
I frowned.
“What are these?”
Andrés shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Where did Teresa find it?”
“In the nursery.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Under the crib.”
I stared at the numbers.
Then I remembered something.
The trust.
The original amount.
7.8 million pesos.
The first number could be eleven.
The second was Sergio's age at some point.
The third—
I didn't know.
“Could it be a code?”
Andrés looked at me.
“Maybe.”
The door opened.
Detective Ruiz entered.
She carried a laptop.
“I need to show you something.”
She placed it on the table.
A security recording appeared.
The footage was from my house.
I recognized the nursery immediately.
The camera angle was strange.
It wasn't one of our cameras.
It had been placed high in the corner.
“Where did this come from?”
“We found it during the search.”
I watched.
The recording showed Sergio entering the nursery at 10:47.
He wasn't carrying the suitcase yet.
He walked directly to the crib.
He looked at Nicolás.
Then he looked toward the door.
He pulled out his phone.
He made a call.
I leaned closer.
His voice was faint.
But the microphone captured enough.
“I need more time.”
A pause.
Then:
“No. She hasn't signed.”
My blood turned cold.
Sergio looked toward the crib again.
“I'm telling you, the baby is the problem.”
I covered my mouth.
Andrés stared at the screen.
The recording continued.
Sergio walked toward the dresser.
He opened a drawer.
Removed something.
Then he noticed the camera.
He stared directly at it.
For several seconds.
Then he smiled.
The screen went black.
I couldn't move.
“He knew,” I whispered.
Ruiz nodded.
“He knew there was a camera.”
“Then why leave the recording?”
“We don't know.”
She opened another file.
“This was recovered from your home network.”
A photograph appeared.
It was the kitchen.
The timestamp showed the previous night.
Sergio was standing at the counter.
The envelope from the bank was in front of him.
Beside it was another document.
A power-of-attorney form.
My name was printed at the top.
And below it was a second name.
I leaned toward the screen.
I knew that name.
It belonged to Paola.
Sergio's business partner.
“What does she have to do with my trust?”
Ruiz didn't answer.
She zoomed in.
At the bottom of the document was a handwritten note.
Only four words.
I read them twice.
Then my hands began shaking.
May you like
Because they were written in my mother's handwriting.
“Do not trust Sergio.”
