Chapter 4 - A Name Behind the Wall
In the present, Diego stood alone in the mansion library, holding a glass of water he had forgotten to drink.
He had spent the afternoon attempting to work.
Instead, he kept seeing Marisol beneath the chandelier.
Her face had changed, but not enough.
The shape of her mouth was the same. So was the small scar near her right eyebrow, earned when she slipped on ice outside the San Aurelio chapel.
He had recognized her.
She had looked directly at him and lied.
Diego opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Inside was a blue velvet box.
He had not opened it in years.
The photograph within showed Marisol standing in snow, her dark hair loose beneath a red scarf. On the back, in her handwriting, were four words:
Come back before spring.
Diego had returned to San Aurelio in March.
The boardinghouse was closed.
Her aunt claimed Marisol had gone to Argentina with a man whose name she refused to share. A bank document presented by Don Rafael’s attorney showed that two hundred thousand dollars had been transferred to an account under Marisol’s name.
Diego had felt humiliated.
Then betrayed.
Then furious enough to spend years pretending the memory meant nothing.
But the account had never made sense.
Marisol had once refused a diamond bracelet because she said it was worth more than the boardinghouse roof.
Why would she sell him for money?
A knock sounded.
Paulina entered without waiting.
“You disappeared from the florist meeting.”
“I was working.”
“You were staring at an old photograph.”
Diego closed the box.
Paulina’s gaze sharpened.
“Is that her?”
“Who?”
“The maid.”
“You seemed to recognize her too.”
“I said she looked familiar.”
“You said she worked for your family.”
“She claims she did.”
“And you do not remember her name?”
“We had many employees.”
Diego leaned back.
“What happened to the staff records from nine years ago?”
Paulina’s posture stiffened.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Your father’s archive was digitized.”
“I don’t manage archives.”
“Someone does.”
She walked to the window.
“You are letting a servant create unnecessary drama three weeks before our engagement announcement.”
“We announced our engagement months ago.”
“The formal gala matters.”
“To your father.”
“To our families.”
“My family consists largely of dead people and lawyers.”
Paulina turned.
“And soon, me.”
The words should have sounded intimate.
Instead, they felt like a claim.
Diego looked at her carefully.
“Did you ever speak to Marisol before today?”
“No.”
“Think before you answer.”
“I do not appreciate being interrogated.”
“I do not appreciate being lied to.”
Color rose in her face.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“I’m asking a question.”
“And I answered.”
She moved toward the door, then paused.
“Be careful, Diego. Women like that understand how to turn old memories into opportunities.”
He watched her leave.
The door had barely closed when a faint sound came from behind the shelves.
A scrape.
Diego stood.
“Who is there?”
No answer.
He crossed the room and found one section of shelving slightly open.
The library had hidden passages built during the civil unrest a century earlier. Most had been sealed, but the one behind the history section remained accessible.
Diego pulled it wider.
Valentina stood inside the narrow passage, holding Tomás the rabbit.
Her face was pale.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you doing in there?”
“I got lost.”
“In a hidden passage?”
“I was in the schoolroom. There’s a little door behind the map.”
Diego looked into the dark corridor.
He had forgotten that the schoolroom passage connected to the library.
“You heard our conversation.”
Valentina looked down.
“Some of it.”
“Does your mother know you are here?”
“No.”
“She will be worried.”
“I know.”
Diego studied the child.
Up close, the resemblance was more unsettling.
“What is your name?”
“Valentina Vega.”
“How old are you?”
“Nine.”
“When is your birthday?”
“February seventeenth.”
Diego’s pulse shifted.
He had left San Aurelio in late May.
The dates fit.
He crouched so they were at eye level.
“Have you met me before?”
“No.”
“Has your mother spoken about me?”
Valentina hesitated.
“She said you were her friend.”
“Only a friend?”
“She doesn’t tell me everything.”
“That makes two of us.”
Valentina hugged the rabbit tighter.
“Are you angry with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m confused.”
“My mamá says confusion is anger without a map.”
Diego almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
The rabbit’s torn seam opened slightly.
He saw a flash of gold inside.
“What is that?”
Valentina quickly covered it.
“Nothing.”
“Valentina.”
“It belongs to Mamá.”
Diego held out his hand.
After a long hesitation, she reached into the rabbit and removed the golden button.
The lion-and-moon crest glinted in the dim passage.
Diego felt as though the floor had shifted.
“Where did she get this?”
“She keeps it in a white cloth.”
“Did she tell you what it means?”
“She said it was a promise.”
His voice became rough.
“Did she say who gave it to her?”
Valentina shook her head.
Footsteps sounded in the library.
Paulina called, “Diego?”
Valentina’s eyes widened.
Diego put one finger to his lips.
He took the button and slipped it into the child’s hand.
“Stay here.”
He closed the hidden shelf and turned as Paulina entered again.
“I forgot my phone.”
“It is on the table.”
She picked it up but did not leave.
“Were you speaking to someone?”
“No.”
Paulina looked around the room.
A tiny sound came from behind the shelf.
The squeak of the rabbit’s damaged stuffing.
Paulina’s eyes moved toward it.
Diego stepped into her line of sight.
“You should go. The designer is waiting.”
Her gaze remained on the books.
Then she smiled.
“Of course.”
After she left, Diego reopened the passage.
Valentina was gone.
On the floor lay a scrap of paper torn from an old notebook.
May you like
A child’s handwriting covered one side:
The lady in white knows my name.
