Chapter 4 - The Voice on the Phone
The nurse handed me the phone.
I stared at the screen.
One missed call.
One voicemail.
From Ofelia.
I pressed play.
My mother's voice filled the room.
“Santiago, listen carefully. Don't make decisions while you're emotional.”
Mariana closed her eyes.
The recording continued.
“Your wife has been hiding things from you.”
I stopped the playback.
“What is she talking about?”
Mariana shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I pressed play again.
“You think you know everything about your marriage.”
A pause.
“You don't.”
Then the recording ended.
I stared at the phone.
Mariana whispered, “She wants you afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because fear makes people doubt each other.”
The doctor entered before I could answer.
“Your son's temperature is coming down.”
Relief hit me so hard I nearly cried.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“We're monitoring him, but he's responding to treatment.”
I nodded.
The doctor turned to Mariana.
“We'll continue your antibiotics and fluids.”
After she left, Mariana reached for my hand.
“I need to tell you something.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“When I was pregnant, your mother asked me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A statement saying I had postpartum anxiety before Emiliano was born.”
I stared at her.
“Why would you sign that?”
“I didn't.”
“Did she threaten you?”
Mariana looked toward the door.
“She told me if I refused, she'd make sure you believed I was unstable.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought you would confront her.”
“I would have.”
“And then she would have made everything worse.”
I couldn't argue.
She continued.
“She told me she had contacts. She said she could make doctors question me.”
I remembered the document.
The wording.
The dates.
It had been planned.
Then I remembered another detail.
My mother's friend.
The woman in the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Mariana looked at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
“You've seen her before?”
“Once.”
“Where?”
“At your mother's house.”
“What did she say?”
Mariana's face changed.
“She asked me if I knew about your father's first marriage.”
I stared.
“My father was married before?”
Mariana nodded.
“I didn't know either.”
My father had died when I was nineteen.
He had never mentioned another marriage.
I pulled out my phone.
I called Paola.
She answered immediately.
“Did you find anything?”
“Did Dad have another marriage?”
Silence.
“Paola?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
Another silence.
Then she whispered:
“Mom told me never to talk about it.”
My heart began pounding.
“What marriage?”
“I don't know.”
“You know something.”
“I found an old hospital record years ago.”
“What record?”
“Birth records.”
I stood.
“For who?”
Paola started crying.
“Santiago…”
“Tell me.”
“The record was for a baby.”
I couldn't speak.
“Your father was listed as the father.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What happened to the baby?”
Paola whispered:
“That's what Mom never wanted anyone to find out.”
The line went silent.
Then I heard a sound.
A door closing.
Paola whispered one final sentence.
“Mom is here.”
The call ended.
I stared at Mariana.
Neither of us moved.
Then my phone vibrated again.
May you like
A new message had arrived from an unknown number.
If you want the truth about the first baby, go to your father's old office before your mother gets there.
