Chapter 2 - the letter from a dead woman
Diego dismissed the servants from the blue sitting room and closed the doors.
Valentina sat on the sofa beside Marisol, holding a porcelain cup in both hands. Diego remained near the fireplace, staring at the golden button.
Paulina stood by the windows.
“This conversation should include the family attorney,” she said.
“It will,” Diego replied. “After Marisol explains why she has a letter from my mother.”
Marisol gave Valentina a reassuring smile before facing him.
“Elena visited me a month after I left the mansion.”
Diego’s jaw tightened.
“You left without saying a word.”
“I tried to speak to you.”
“You changed your number.”
“I was told you changed yours.”
He looked toward Paulina.
She folded her arms.
“Don’t involve me in this.”
Marisol continued.
“Your mother found me in San Aurelio. I was working at a small hotel under my aunt’s name. She already knew I was pregnant.”
Diego looked at Valentina.
The child was tracing the gold pattern on her cup.
“When?” he asked.
“Three months.”
“And you never told me?”
“I sent you seventeen messages.”
“I received one.”
Marisol went pale.
“What did it say?”
“That you had met someone else. That you wanted no connection to my family.”
“I never wrote that.”
Paulina laughed softly.
“This is a convenient story.”
Marisol opened the second envelope.
Inside was a short letter and an old photograph.
The photograph showed Elena standing beside a pregnant Marisol outside a small hotel. Elena was holding the navy coat with one golden button missing.
Diego crossed the room and took it.
The date was printed in the corner.
It was taken almost four years earlier, six weeks after Marisol disappeared.
He read the letter.
My son,
If this has reached you, then I failed to correct the wrong done to you and Marisol.
Do not blame her until you have examined the button.
Do not trust any document bearing my signature after October 12.
Protect the child before you protect the Alvarado name.
Mother
Diego read it again.
“What happened on October 12?”
Paulina answered before Marisol could.
“That was the day your mother signed the revised foundation agreement.”
Diego looked up.
“How do you remember that?”
“It was an important company date.”
“It wasn’t public.”
Paulina’s gaze shifted.
“Your father mentioned it.”
“My father died two years before that.”
The room became silent.
Paulina corrected herself.
“I meant Sebastián.”
Diego folded the letter carefully.
Marisol watched him.
“Elena said the button contained something that could only be opened in this house.”
“Why wait until Valentina turned three?”
“She said children under three were easier to erase from legal records.”
Diego’s expression hardened.
“What does that mean?”
“I asked her the same question. She said someone had already removed my clinic registration and altered the employment files showing that I worked here.”
Paulina approached the sofa.
“This is absurd. Diego, she could have created the photograph and copied Elena’s handwriting.”
Valentina looked up.
“Why are you angry?”
Paulina stopped.
The little girl clutched her cup closer.
Marisol immediately put an arm around her.
Paulina softened her voice.
“I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. I’m angry because your mother has brought you into an adult disagreement.”
“Paulina,” Diego said.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“By frightening a child?”
Paulina turned away.
Diego examined the button beneath the lamp.
Along the edge was a nearly invisible seam.
He pressed the Alvarado crest.
Nothing happened.
Marisol touched the mantel.
“Elena said the key was where her children learned to tell time.”
Diego looked toward the grandfather clock in the hallway.
His mother had taught him to read the clock when he was five. His younger brother, Nicolás, had learned there too before disappearing from the family’s life.
Diego opened the sitting-room door and walked to the clock.
Behind the pendulum was a narrow brass slot.
The golden button fit perfectly.
A hidden compartment opened inside the clock.
There was no document inside.
Only a small black device and a note.
Diego picked up the device.
The screen lit automatically.
Enter the child’s date of birth.
Paulina moved toward him.
“Don’t.”
Diego turned.
Her face betrayed her before she could hide it.
“You know what this is,” he said.
“No.”
“You knew the button would open the clock.”
“I knew Elena liked puzzles.”
Marisol stepped into the hallway.
“Valentina was born on May 17.”
Diego entered the date.
The device displayed a second question.
Enter the father’s first name.
His finger hovered over the keys.
Valentina came to stand beside him.
She pointed at the screen.
“Mommy said my daddy’s name was Diego.”
Paulina closed her eyes.
Diego typed his name.
The screen unlocked.
A directory appeared containing three folders.
Financial transfers.
Medical records.
Valentina.
Diego opened the third folder.
The first file was a scanned prenatal report listing Marisol as the mother.
The father’s name had been blacked out.
The second file was an audio recording.
Before Diego could play it, the mansion lights went out.
Valentina screamed.
A second later, glass shattered in the hallway.
May you like
When the emergency lights came on, Paulina was still standing near the clock.
But the black device had vanished from Diego’s hand.
