Chapter 5 - The Voice Behind the Door
“Mariana.”
The voice came from the darkness behind them.
She froze.
Julián turned immediately, placing himself between Mariana and the corridor.
Lucía grabbed Mariana’s arm.
“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be him.”
The investigator raised his weapon.
“Show yourself!”
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then a man's footsteps echoed through the passage.
Slow.
Measured.
Getting closer.
Mariana's heart hammered against her ribs.
She knew that voice.
She had heard it in old recordings.
She had heard her mother mention it only once.
And she had seen the face attached to it in a photograph that had been hidden in the back of a drawer for most of her childhood.
Her father.
The man everyone had told her died when she was six.
Julián glanced at her.
“You know him?”
Mariana could barely breathe.
“That voice…”
Another step.
“He's dead.”
Lucía shook her head.
“He was supposed to be.”
The investigator motioned everyone toward the steel exit.
“Move.”
They hurried through the narrow passage.
The door slammed behind them.
They found themselves in an underground storage room beneath the old clinic.
There were no windows.
Only concrete walls, rusted shelves, and a single emergency light flickering above them.
Mariana leaned against the wall.
Her hand instinctively covered her belly.
The baby moved.
A strong kick.
She closed her eyes.
For the first time that night, she remembered that she was not alone inside her own body.
She had spent weeks being told she was unstable.
That she imagined things.
That she was too emotional.
That pregnancy had made her suspicious.
Now she understood what Rocío had been doing.
Someone had been systematically removing every person who could protect her.
Her husband had been isolated from her.
Her phone had been taken.
Her mother had been kept away.
Her medical appointments had been manipulated.
Her identity had been turned into evidence.
And now she had discovered a twin sister who had been erased from her family history.
Julián crouched in front of her.
“Are you hurting?”
“No.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I’m scared.”
He took her hand.
“I’m here.”
Lucía watched them from across the room.
Her expression was complicated.
Almost painful.
“You really love him,” she said.
Mariana looked at her.
“Yes.”
Lucía smiled faintly.
“Then he is going to be in danger.”
Julián stood.
“Explain.”
Lucía walked toward a metal shelf.
She pulled down an old cardboard box.
Dust covered the lid.
“This is why I came here.”
She placed it on the floor.
Inside were photographs, letters, hospital bracelets, and several cassette tapes.
Mariana picked up one photograph.
Her mother was younger.
She was standing outside the same clinic.
Beside her stood a man.
Mariana's father.
And beside him was Rocío.
Mariana stared at the image.
“Why was my mother with Rocío?”
Lucía answered quietly.
“Because they knew each other before you were born.”
Julián frowned.
“My mother never mentioned that.”
“She wouldn't.”
Lucía pulled out a letter.
“The three of them were involved in something.”
“What?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Then tell us what you do know.”
Lucía looked at Mariana.
“When we were born, your mother wanted to keep both of us.”
Mariana's fingers tightened around the photograph.
“But someone didn't.”
Lucía nodded.
“Your father.”
“Why?”
“He said two daughters would destroy the family.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It didn't make sense to me either.”
Lucía opened another folder.
Inside were documents from a private adoption agency.
“My father arranged for me to disappear.”
Mariana stared at the papers.
“But why were you called Lucía Herrera?”
“Because he didn't want anyone connecting me to you.”
Julián picked up a document.
There was a signature at the bottom.
Rocío Lozano.
He looked up.
“My mother signed this?”
Lucía nodded.
“She was the person who delivered me.”
Julián's face hardened.
“She knew you existed.”
“She knew before anyone else.”
Mariana felt a wave of nausea.
“Then why did she spend all these years pretending I was an only child?”
Lucía's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she was afraid of what would happen if we ever found each other.”
The emergency light flickered.
Julián looked toward the ceiling.
“We need to leave.”
The investigator nodded.
“We've been underground too long.”
He checked his radio.
Nothing.
“No signal.”
Lucía walked toward the far wall.
“There is another exit.”
She touched a section of concrete.
“It opens into the old chapel.”
Julián frowned.
“How do you know?”
“I lived here.”
Mariana stared at her.
“What?”
Lucía looked down.
“For three years.”
Her voice cracked.
“After they took me from the hospital, they didn't send me away immediately.”
She swallowed.
“They kept me here.”
Mariana felt sick.
“Who?”
Lucía didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled a small key from around her neck.
“They kept me in a room under the chapel.”
Mariana looked at the key.
“What happened to you?”
Lucía's eyes hardened.
“I learned to survive.”
The investigator found a hidden latch.
A panel opened.
Beyond it was a narrow staircase.
They began climbing.
Mariana followed Julián.
Halfway up, she heard something.
A faint sound above them.
A chair moving.
Then footsteps.
Julián raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
Someone was in the chapel.
The investigator moved ahead.
He slowly opened the door.
The chapel was empty.
Rows of wooden benches stood beneath a cracked cross.
Moonlight entered through broken stained glass.
On the altar sat a single envelope.
Julián approached it.
His name was written across the front.
CAPTAIN JULIÁN LOZANO.
He opened it.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Mariana watched his expression change.
“What does it say?”
He didn't answer.
“Julián?”
He turned the paper toward her.
It contained a photograph.
Mariana looked at it.
Her blood turned cold.
The photograph had been taken only weeks earlier.
It showed Rocío standing beside a hospital bed.
Mariana was lying unconscious on the mattress.
And beside her bed stood Dr. Esteban Varela.
But the person behind them was the real shock.
Mariana recognized him instantly.
Her father.
Alive.
The date on the photograph was three weeks after his supposed death.
Mariana stumbled backward.
“No.”
Lucía covered her mouth.
The investigator took the photograph.
“This changes everything.”
Julián stared at the image.
His father-in-law had not merely survived.
He had been watching Mariana.
For years.
Mariana's mind raced.
“Then why did my mother tell me he was dead?”
“Maybe she was protecting you,” Julián said.
“From him?”
“Or from someone else.”
Lucía suddenly pointed toward the chapel doors.
“Listen.”
Everyone went silent.
A car engine started outside.
Then another.
Julián moved toward the window.
Three black vehicles were parked beyond the chapel.
Men were getting out.
The investigator whispered,
“We have company.”
Julián pulled Mariana behind the altar.
Lucía crouched beside them.
The chapel doors opened.
Three men entered.
The first carried a folder.
The second held a phone.
The third wore a dark military-style jacket.
He looked around the chapel.
Then he spoke.
“Mariana Lozano.”
She stopped breathing.
The man raised the phone.
“Your husband is with us.”
Julián's face changed.
Mariana grabbed his hand.
The man smiled.
“And if you want him alive, you will come with us.”
Lucía suddenly whispered something that made Mariana's blood run cold.
“That man isn't here for Julián.”
She pointed toward the folder.
“He's here for the baby.”
The man opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph of Mariana's unborn child from an ultrasound.
And beneath it was a name.
May you like
PROJECT HEIR.
Then the chapel doors locked from the outside.
