Chapter 5 - The Room They Hid Her In
“Julián, run now.”
I read Mariana’s message three times.
The hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
I looked up at Ofelia, Renato, and Dr. Varela.
None of them had noticed the message.
Or maybe they had.
I closed my hand around the phone.
“Where is she?”
Ofelia's expression remained strangely calm.
“I already told you. She was transferred.”
“To where?”
“That is not your concern anymore.”
I laughed once.
It wasn't because anything was funny.
It was because I suddenly understood how badly they had underestimated me.
“You forged my signature.”
Renato stepped forward.
“Be careful.”
“No.”
I held up the document.
“You be careful.”
His eyes narrowed.
I turned toward the security guards.
“This authorization is fraudulent. I never signed it. My wife is alive, and you moved her without my permission.”
One guard looked uncomfortable.
The other glanced at Dr. Varela.
That was enough.
They were afraid of him.
I was afraid too.
But fear wasn't useful anymore.
I needed Mariana.
And our daughter.
I pulled out my phone.
“I have copies of everything.”
Ofelia's face changed.
“What copies?”
“Medical records. Medication logs. The research documents from B-17. The ampoule Renato tried to hide.”
Renato's jaw tightened.
“You broke into restricted property.”
“And you tried to cremate my living wife.”
Silence.
Even the guards looked at him.
Dr. Varela finally spoke.
“You don't understand what happened.”
“Then explain it.”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Explain why my wife was declared dead at 10:18.”
Nothing.
“Explain why a medication was administered at 10:41.”
His eyes flickered.
“Explain why my wife had cardiac activity when the paramedics arrived.”
Still nothing.
Then I asked the question that made Ofelia look away.
“Explain why there is a document about fetal extraction with my wife's name on it.”
Renato lunged toward me.
I stepped aside.
The guard grabbed his arm.
“Sir!”
Renato struggled.
“Give me the folder!”
I held it against my chest.
“You're not getting it.”
Ofelia raised her hand.
“Renato.”
He stopped.
She looked at me.
“You really don't know what you're holding.”
“I know enough.”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“You know nothing.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the emergency corridor.
Then back at me.
“Your daughter is not an ordinary child.”
My stomach tightened.
“She hasn't even been born.”
“That is exactly why you don't understand.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I forced myself to stay calm.
“What did you do to Mariana?”
Ofelia's lips trembled.
For the first time, I saw something resembling guilt.
“We were trying to protect the family.”
“From what?”
She didn't answer.
Renato did.
“From what your wife discovered.”
I looked at him.
“What did Mariana discover?”
He stared at the floor.
Then he whispered:
“The truth about her mother.”
Ofelia slapped him.
The crack echoed through the corridor.
Renato's head turned with the force of it.
“Enough,” Ofelia hissed.
I stared at both of them.
“What truth?”
Ofelia grabbed her handbag.
“We are leaving.”
I moved in front of her.
“No.”
She stopped.
“You don't get to walk away.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I don't have to.”
I pulled out my phone again.
“I already sent the records to someone outside this hospital.”
That was a lie.
But it worked.
Ofelia's eyes widened.
“To whom?”
“Someone who knows what B-17 is.”
Dr. Varela stepped forward.
“Julián, listen to me.”
I looked at him.
“If you hurt Mariana or that baby, you will spend the rest of your life in prison.”
He lowered his voice.
“Your wife is in danger.”
“She was in danger because of you.”
“No.”
His eyes moved toward the elevator.
“She is in danger because someone else knows what she carries.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The corridor went dark.
Someone screamed.
A door slammed somewhere behind us.
Emergency lights came on a second later.
Red.
Dim.
Dr. Varela was gone.
So was Renato.
Ofelia stood alone.
I grabbed her arm.
“Where did they go?”
She pulled free.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
She looked at me.
“No, Julián.”
Her voice had changed.
She looked genuinely terrified.
“They took her.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Not Renato.”
I stared at her.
“Who took Mariana?”
Ofelia looked toward the dark elevator.
“The people who started all of this.”
The elevator doors opened.
Nobody was inside.
I stepped toward it.
Ofelia grabbed my sleeve.
“Don't.”
I looked at her hand.
“Why?”
“Because they want you to follow.”
I pulled away.
“Then they'll have to deal with me.”
I stepped inside.
The elevator descended.
The numbers changed.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
The hospital had no public floors below ground.
Five.
Four.
Three.
I stared at the display.
“Where is this going?”
Ofelia didn't answer.
Two.
One.
Then the display changed.
B3.
The doors opened.
A long concrete corridor stretched into darkness.
I stepped out.
Behind me, Ofelia stayed inside the elevator.
“Come with me.”
She shook her head.
“I can't.”
“You're coming.”
“No.”
The doors began closing.
I reached for them.
Ofelia looked at me through the narrowing gap.
“Find Room 17.”
The doors shut.
I stood alone.
The corridor smelled of disinfectant and damp concrete.
There were no windows.
No cameras that I could see.
Just white fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
I walked slowly.
Room numbers appeared on the walls.
B3-01.
B3-02.
B3-03.
Then the numbers jumped.
B3-15.
B3-16.
B3-18.
I stopped.
Room 17 was missing.
I looked around.
There was a blank section of wall between 16 and 18.
I ran my fingers over it.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a tiny metal plate near the floor.
I crouched.
A fingerprint scanner.
I pulled out the document with my forged signature.
There was a small code printed beneath the authorization line.
0714-17.
I entered it.
A green light appeared.
The wall clicked.
A section slid backward.
Behind it was a narrow doorway.
I opened it.
A staircase descended.
I went down.
The air became colder.
At the bottom was another corridor.
This one was different.
Clean.
Modern.
Private.
Doors with no handles lined both sides.
At the end stood a large glass window.
Behind it was a room filled with medical equipment.
And someone was lying on a bed.
I ran toward the glass.
My heart stopped.
“Mariana.”
She was there.
Alive.
Connected to monitors.
An IV ran into her arm.
Her pregnant belly rose beneath the hospital sheet.
I pressed my hand against the glass.
“Mari!”
Her eyes opened.
She turned toward me.
For a moment, she looked confused.
Then her face filled with fear.
She shook her head violently.
No.
I searched for a door.
There was one beside the glass.
I opened it.
The room alarm immediately began screaming.
Mariana tried to sit up.
“Julián…”
“I've got you.”
I moved toward her.
She grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
“What?”
“Don't touch the baby.”
I froze.
“Why?”
Her breathing became faster.
“They're watching.”
I looked around.
There were cameras in every corner.
I moved closer.
“Who?”
Mariana looked toward the ceiling.
Then toward the observation window.
“Your family.”
“My family?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She swallowed.
“Not yours.”
A sound came from behind the observation glass.
Footsteps.
Mariana's fingers tightened around mine.
“Julián.”
“What?”
“Before you came here, they told me something.”
“What?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“They said Alma doesn't belong to me.”
My entire body went cold.
“What are you talking about?”
Mariana looked toward her stomach.
“They know who the father really is.”
I stared at her.
“I am the father.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“Then what did they mean?”
She opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the lights inside the room turned red.
The monitor beside her began beeping rapidly.
A voice came through the ceiling speaker.
“Subject M-0714 is awake.”
Mariana's face went white.
The door behind me locked automatically.
I grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
“Open this door!”
The speaker remained silent.
Then another voice came through.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Hello, Julián.”
I stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
I turned slowly toward the observation window.
A figure stepped into view.
Dr. Varela stood there.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him was a woman.
Mariana saw her through the glass.
Her entire face changed.
She whispered one word.
“Mother…”
The woman stepped closer to the glass.
And then she said a name I had never heard before.
Not Mariana.
Not Ofelia.
May you like
The name of the woman who had supposedly died twenty-six years earlier—
“Isabella.”
