Chapter 13 - The Room Above the Chapel
The bank deposit box contained a map.
It showed properties once owned secretly by Don Rafael across Spain, France, Switzerland, and the Czech Republic. Most had been sold after his death.
One remained under an inactive charitable foundation.
A hilltop chapel outside Segovia.
Gabriel found payments for electricity, food deliveries, and private tutors extending until six months earlier.
Diego assembled a small team.
Marisol refused to remain at the mansion.
“If Elena is there, I am going.”
“It could be a trap.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Valentina is also your daughter.”
“And she will stay here under guard.”
Valentina overheard.
“No.”
Marisol turned.
“You are not coming.”
“You said we don’t leave family alone.”
“This is different.”
“Because Elena is my sister?”
Marisol’s face softened.
“Yes.”
“Then I should help find her.”
“You help by staying safe.”
Valentina hugged Tomás the rabbit.
“What if she is scared of us?”
Marisol had no answer.
Diego crouched beside Valentina.
“I promise we will not force her to do anything.”
“Will you tell her I kept the gold button safe?”
“Yes.”
“And that she can have Tomás sometimes?”
“Yes.”
Valentina looked toward the staircase.
“Paulina said Elena liked white rabbits.”
Everyone fell silent.
“When did she tell you that?” Diego asked.
“Yesterday. Before the fire.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“She looked at Tomás and said, ‘Elena had one just like that.’ Then she told me she meant someone from when she was little.”
Paulina had slipped.
She remembered Elena well enough to remember her toys.
That meant her claim of ignorance was incomplete.
Paulina had been confined to a guest suite under guard, but when Gabriel’s officers went to question her, the room was empty.
The windows were locked.
The corridor cameras showed no exit.
Only the old hidden passages offered a path.
By then, she was gone.
The chapel stood at the end of an unmarked mountain road.
Its stone walls were covered in ivy. No religious services had been held there for twenty years, but the front door was freshly oiled.
Inside, dust covered the pews.
A candle burned near the altar.
Marisol approached it.
“Someone was here.”
Gabriel examined the floor.
“Several people. Recent.”
Behind the altar, they found stairs leading upward to a room built above the chapel ceiling.
The room contained a bed, a desk, clothes sized for a young girl, and shelves filled with books in Spanish, French, and English.
Drawings covered one wall.
Two baby girls sleeping side by side.
A woman with dark hair standing behind locked gates.
A man in a blue coat with no face.
A white rose dripping red paint.
Marisol touched the drawing of the babies.
“She knew.”
On the desk lay a notebook.
The first pages were written in careful childish handwriting.
My name is Elena Serrano.
Mother says my real father died.
Grandfather says I must never tell anyone where I live.
There is another girl who looks like me.
Mother becomes angry when I ask about her.
Years passed through the notebook.
The handwriting matured.
I found the photograph of the woman from the clinic.
She is not dead.
Her name is Marisol Vega.
The other girl is Valentina.
She has my face.
I think Mother stole me.
Marisol pressed a hand to her mouth.
The final entry was dated six months earlier.
The man with the scar says he can take me to my real family. I do not trust him. Mother says he killed Lucía. Grandfather says Mother is lying. Everyone tells a different story.
I found Don Rafael’s recording.
The firstborn is not who they think.
If I leave, they will hurt Valentina.
So I must find her first.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Gabriel turned with his weapon raised.
A teenage girl stood in the doorway.
She had Valentina’s eyes.
Marisol’s mouth.
Diego’s dark hair.
She wore a gray coat too large for her and held a pistol in both hands.
Marisol’s breath left her.
“Elena.”
The girl’s arms shook.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you?”
“I don’t know.”
Marisol took one slow step.
The pistol lifted.
“Stop.”
Marisol stopped.
“I am your mother.”
“You are Valentina’s mother.”
“I gave birth to both of you.”
“You kept her.”
“You were taken from me.”
“That is what Esteban said.”
“It is true.”
“Paulina said you sold me.”
Marisol flinched.
“I never knew you existed until three days ago.”
The girl’s face crumpled for one second, then hardened again.
“That is worse.”
A door slammed below.
Gabriel turned toward the stairs.
Smoke began rising through the chapel.
Again.
Someone had set fire to the ground floor.
Diego moved toward the girl.
“We need to leave.”
She pointed the gun at him.
“You are Diego.”
“Yes.”
“Valentina thinks you are good.”
“You have met her?”
The girl did not answer.
Marisol saw the truth.
“You came to the mansion.”
The gray coat.
The watching figure.
The card at the window.
Not every sighting had been Esteban.
Elena had been closer than any of them realized.
The flames climbed.
Diego held out his hand.
“You do not have to trust us. But you have to survive long enough to decide.”
The girl looked at the smoke.
Then at Marisol.
She lowered the pistol.
A shot came from outside.
The bullet struck her shoulder.
Marisol screamed and caught her as she fell.
Through the chapel window, a man stood among the trees.
May you like
Sebastián Serrano.
He raised the rifle again.
