Chapter 7 - The Man in the Photograph
I couldn't sleep.
The photograph stayed on my desk while I waited for someone to explain what I was seeing.
Paola insisted the man in the reflection was Rafael.
I agreed.
But Rafael was dead.
Unless the photograph had been taken before his death.
The date proved otherwise.
It had been taken three years after his funeral.
“Maybe the date is wrong,” Paola said.
“No.”
I pointed to the hospital bracelet on the baby.
It had the same date.
Paola sat down.
“Then who is that?”
“I don't know.”
We contacted an old family lawyer.
His name was Daniel Herrera.
He had handled my father's estate.
When I showed him the photograph, his face changed.
“You found this?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“I hoped this day would never come.”
“What does that mean?”
Daniel opened an old file.
“Your father believed your mother was involved in something.”
“Something involving Isabel?”
“Yes.”
“Was the baby alive?”
Daniel nodded.
“For years.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You represented my father.”
“I represented his company.”
“You knew about the baby.”
“I knew enough to know your father was terrified.”
“Of my mother?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Of what would happen if she discovered he had found the child.”
I stared.
“What happened to Isabel?”
Daniel hesitated.
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Shortly after your father's death.”
Paola whispered, “And the baby?”
Daniel closed the file.
“That is what your mother wanted everyone to believe was a dead end.”
I leaned forward.
“What do you know?”
He finally answered.
“The baby was adopted.”
“By whom?”
“I can't disclose that without a court order.”
I stood.
“Then get one.”
Daniel looked at me.
“You need to understand something.”
“What?”
“If the child is alive, your mother's entire story collapses.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Mariana.
Santiago, the baby is awake.
I smiled for the first time all day.
Then another message arrived.
But your mother is at the hospital.
I froze.
We rushed back.
When we reached the hospital, Ofelia was standing at the nurses' station.
She looked calm.
Too calm.
She turned when she saw me.
“You shouldn't have come back.”
I walked toward her.
“You don't get to decide that.”
She smiled.
“You think you know what you're doing.”
“I know you forged my signature.”
“I was protecting the family.”
“You hurt my wife.”
“She was already unstable.”
“You locked her in a room.”
“She needed rest.”
“You let my son reach 39.1.”
Mother's expression hardened.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.”
Then she looked toward the nursery.
“Go ask Mariana what happened to her first child.”
I froze.
“What?”
Mother smiled.
“Ask her.”
I turned toward the nursery.
Mariana was standing there.
May you like
Her face had gone completely white.
And when I looked at her, I realized she knew exactly what my mother meant.
