Chapter 10 - The Mother Behind the Door
“Isabella, bring me my daughters…”
The voice came from the darkness.
Lucia stopped breathing.
Mariana tightened her grip on my arm.
I looked at Isabella.
She was staring into the tunnel as if she had seen a ghost.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
She didn't answer.
The voice came again.
“Isabella.”
This time it was closer.
“Bring them to me.”
Lucia shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You know that voice.”
She swallowed.
“I thought she was dead.”
Mariana stared at her.
“Who?”
Lucia's eyes filled with fear.
“Our grandmother.”
I felt a chill run through me.
The woman who had supposedly died decades ago.
The woman whose name appeared nowhere in the records.
The woman who had apparently controlled the Beltrán family from the shadows.
I looked at Isabella.
“Your mother is alive?”
Isabella's face was pale.
“I don't know.”
“You just said—”
“I said I thought she was dead.”
The footsteps continued.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was walking toward us.
Daniel whispered:
“We need to move.”
He pointed toward a small metal door at the end of the tunnel.
“Now.”
We moved quickly.
Mariana struggled to keep pace.
I held her around the waist.
Lucia stayed beside us.
Isabella followed.
Daniel reached the door and tried the handle.
Locked.
“Of course,” he muttered.
I looked behind us.
The darkness seemed to be moving.
Then I heard another sound.
A soft mechanical click.
Daniel looked up.
“Down!”
A red laser crossed the wall where my head had been.
We dropped.
A shot cracked through the tunnel.
The bullet struck the metal door.
Mariana screamed.
I pulled her against me.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Lucia pointed toward the ceiling.
“Camera.”
A tiny lens moved above us.
Daniel grabbed a metal pipe from the wall.
He threw it.
The camera shattered.
The laser disappeared.
“Move!”
He kicked the door.
Once.
Twice.
The lock broke.
We rushed through.
The room beyond was enormous.
Rows of medical equipment filled the space.
There were incubators.
Monitoring stations.
Refrigerated storage units.
And dozens of sealed containers.
Mariana stopped.
“What is this?”
Daniel closed the door behind us.
“This is where they kept the samples.”
I walked toward one of the refrigerators.
A label was attached.
Beltrán Genetic Archive.
Another.
Maternal Subjects.
Another.
Fetal Samples.
I felt sick.
“How long has this been here?”
Daniel didn't answer.
I opened a cabinet.
Inside were hundreds of files.
Names.
Dates.
Pregnancy records.
Death certificates.
Some of the women had supposedly died in hospitals across Mexico.
Others had disappeared.
I looked at Daniel.
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Mariana stood beside me.
Her face was white.
“They did this to all of them.”
“Yes.”
I opened another file.
A photograph fell out.
A young woman holding a newborn.
Underneath it was a handwritten note.
Subject survived. Infant transferred.
I stared at it.
“Transferred where?”
Daniel looked at the file.
Then his expression changed.
“Here.”
He pointed toward the back wall.
There was a large steel door.
A number was painted across it.
R-17.
I remembered the old files.
B-17.
Room 17.
Everything seemed connected.
“What is R-17?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
“I've never been inside.”
“Then we're going inside now.”
He looked at Mariana.
“She shouldn't.”
“She has a right to know.”
Mariana nodded.
“I'm coming.”
We crossed the room.
Lucia remained behind us.
Isabella stopped beside the door.
“Don't open it.”
I turned.
“Why?”
She looked terrified.
“Because my father told me never to open R-17.”
Mariana frowned.
“Your father?”
Isabella nodded.
“He said whatever was inside had to remain buried.”
I looked at the door.
“Then why is it here?”
“Because they were afraid someone would find it.”
Daniel examined the lock.
“There are three mechanisms.”
“Can you open it?”
“Maybe.”
He pulled the black drive from his pocket.
There was a small connector on its side.
He plugged it into the control panel.
The screen flickered.
Then displayed a list of names.
Isabella Beltrán.
Mariana Beltrán.
Lucia Beltrán.
Alma Ortega.
I stared at the final name.
“She hasn't even been born.”
Daniel looked at the screen.
“That's why they need Mariana alive.”
The system displayed another line.
Projected Extraction: 03:00
I checked the time.
2:41 a.m.
We had nineteen minutes.
Mariana saw the screen.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“We're leaving.”
She shook her head.
“Not until we know what they planned.”
“You and the baby come first.”
She touched my face.
“I know.”
Then she looked at Lucia.
“So does she.”
Lucia stepped closer.
“We were both used.”
Mariana nodded.
“Then we end it together.”
A sound came from behind the wall.
A faint vibration.
Then a woman's voice.
“Mariana.”
She froze.
I recognized it.
The same voice from the tunnel.
“Who are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Open the door.”
Isabella stepped backward.
“No.”
The voice became softer.
“My daughter.”
Isabella covered her mouth.
Mariana looked at her.
“You know her.”
Isabella nodded.
“She was my mother.”
Mariana stared at the door.
“Grandmother.”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
“I don't know.”
The voice came again.
“I can hear you.”
Lucia stepped closer.
“Grandmother?”
A pause.
Then the voice answered:
“Yes.”
Lucia began trembling.
“You left me.”
“No.”
“You let them mark me dead.”
“I protected you.”
“You hid me.”
“I saved you.”
Lucia laughed bitterly.
“You saved yourself.”
Silence.
Then the voice changed.
“You don't understand what I sacrificed.”
Mariana stepped forward.
“What did you sacrifice?”
“Everything.”
“Then why did you let them hurt my mother?”
A long silence.
Finally:
“Because your mother betrayed me.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
Mariana turned.
“Is that true?”
Isabella whispered:
“Yes.”
Mariana looked stunned.
“I thought you were trying to save us.”
“I was.”
“Then what did you betray?”
Isabella didn't answer.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Tell them.”
She looked at him.
“You know?”
“I found the file.”
“What file?”
Daniel pointed at the screen.
“The original embryo report.”
Isabella's face went pale.
Mariana looked at him.
“What does it say?”
Daniel hesitated.
“It says the genetic mutation wasn't inherited.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He looked at Mariana.
“Alma didn't inherit the sequence from you.”
Mariana stared at him.
“Then where did it come from?”
Daniel looked toward the steel door.
“The Beltrán research program created it.”
The room went silent.
I felt as though the floor had disappeared.
“You're saying they genetically modified my daughter?”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“Then explain.”
He pointed to the report.
“The mutation was introduced before conception.”
Mariana's eyes widened.
“That is impossible.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Not if someone had access to your reproductive samples.”
My stomach turned.
I remembered the fertility tests Mariana had undergone months earlier.
The blood samples.
The clinic appointments.
The procedures her family had insisted were routine.
Mariana whispered:
“They used us.”
Daniel nodded.
“But that's not the worst part.”
I stared at him.
“What could possibly be worse?”
He opened another file.
Inside was a photograph of a laboratory embryo under a microscope.
A handwritten note appeared beneath it.
Prototype successful. Natural conception achieved.
I couldn't breathe.
Mariana stepped backward.
“No.”
Daniel turned the page.
There was another note.
Father: Julián Ortega.
My heart stopped.
“How did they get my sample?”
Daniel looked at me.
“They didn't.”
“What?”
He pointed to another line.
Genetic donor: Unknown.
I stared at the page.
Mariana looked at me.
Then at Lucia.
Then at Isabella.
Nobody spoke.
A loud metallic sound suddenly echoed through the facility.
The R-17 door unlocked.
One mechanism.
Then another.
Then the third.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Everyone froze.
The steel door began to open by itself.
A narrow line of light appeared.
A woman's silhouette stood behind it.
She stepped forward slowly.
Her hair was completely white.
Her posture was straight.
Her eyes were fixed on Mariana.
Then she smiled.
May you like
And behind her, on the wall of the hidden chamber, was a photograph of Mariana as a newborn—
with another name written beneath it.
