Chapter 9 - The House Outside Monterrey
I knew it was a trap.
I went anyway.
Daniel followed from a distance.
Valeria stayed behind with Lucía.
The farmhouse stood beyond an old road surrounded by dry fields.
The door was open.
Inside, there were signs someone had lived there.
Children's drawings.
A small bed.
A broken music box.
And a photograph of Mariana.
I picked it up.
On the back:
She was supposed to forget.
A noise came from upstairs.
I ran.
The room was empty.
Except for a red ribbon.
Sofía used to wear one like it.
Then I heard a voice.
“You came.”
Mauricio stepped from the shadows.
He held a gun.
I stopped.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She isn't here.”
“You said—”
“I said you'd find answers.”
He smiled.
“You always were too trusting.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You're the one who spent years stealing from me.”
“I stole because your family took everything from mine.”
“What did my family take?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at me.
“That's the problem.”
He explained that his father had once worked for my father.
A business dispute had destroyed his family.
Mauricio believed my father had cheated them.
He had spent years building a plan.
But money was only part of it.
He wanted revenge.
“You killed Mariana.”
“I didn't kill her.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Then who did?”
He looked toward the window.
“You still haven't figured it out.”
A car arrived outside.
A woman entered.
I recognized her from the photograph.
Mauricio's wife.
Alive.
She looked at me.
“My name is Clara.”
My heart stopped.
“Clara Mendoza?”
She nodded.
“I took Sofía.”
“Where is she?”
Clara looked at Mauricio.
Then back at me.
“She is alive.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Where?”
“She was raised somewhere safe.”
“By whom?”
Clara didn't answer.
Mauricio became angry.
“You weren't supposed to tell him.”
Clara turned.
“You promised me he would never be hurt.”
Mauricio raised the gun.
Then the lights went out.
A struggle followed.
I heard Clara scream.
When the lights returned, Mauricio was gone.
Clara was bleeding.
She looked at me.
“Your daughter is safe.”
“Where?”
She pointed toward the door.
“Find the woman who sang the lullaby.”
I stared.
“Valeria?”
Clara nodded.
“She knows more than she realizes.”
Then Clara whispered one final thing.
“Your wife left you one last message.”
“What message?”
“She said never trust the man who claims he loved her.”
May you like
The farmhouse door slammed.
And outside, a car engine roared away with someone trapped inside.
