Chapter 2 - The Woman in Black
Renata Salazar had lived at Casa Valdés for nine years.
She arrived after the estate’s longtime accountant suffered a stroke. At the time, she was known as a discreet financial consultant who had saved two regional companies from bankruptcy.
Teresa trusted her because Rafael had once trusted her father.
Within three years, Renata controlled payroll, property taxes, agricultural contracts, insurance policies, and charitable accounts.
Within five years, no money entered or left Casa Valdés without passing through her office.
She never raised her voice in public.
She remembered birthdays, allergies, and old grudges. She sent flowers before funerals and handwritten notes after weddings. Relatives described her as efficient, loyal, and almost invisible.
That invisibility had been carefully cultivated.
Andrés entered the estate through an irrigation tunnel beneath the eastern orchard. As a child, he and his cousins had used it to sneak into the kitchens. The passage was narrow and half flooded, but its rusted gate remained unlocked.
He emerged behind the abandoned wine cellar.
Voices came from above.
Renata was speaking to one of the new guards.
“Search the eastern woods again.”
“We found no vehicle.”
“He is already here.”
“You said he was still at the base.”
“I said he was supposed to be.”
Her footsteps crossed the cellar ceiling.
Another voice answered, older and male.
“Perhaps the photograph failed to reach him.”
Andrés froze.
Renata replied, “It reached him. His leave request proves that.”
“Then our messenger betrayed us.”
“No. The message was necessary. We needed him frightened enough to come, but uncertain enough to arrive alone.”
Andrés slowly placed his hand against the stone wall.
The anonymous photograph had not been sent by an ally.
It had been bait.
The older man continued.
“You assured the council Teresa had signed.”
“She signed the medical authorization and the temporary estate transfer.”
“Not the trust amendment.”
“She refuses whenever she is lucid.”
“And when she isn’t?”
“The notary will not accept it.”
A chair scraped.
The man lowered his voice, but the cellar carried each word.
“The deadline is in twelve days. After that, the dormant provision activates.”
“Andrés knows nothing about the provision.”
“He does not need to know. He only needs to die before it activates.”
Silence followed.
Andrés felt no shock.
Shock was a luxury for people who were safe.
He focused on details.
Twelve-day deadline.
A council.
A dormant provision.
A plan requiring both him and his mother.
Renata spoke again.
“You said no blood inside the house.”
“I said avoid blood. Circumstances have changed.”
“And Teresa?”
“She has served her purpose.”
The voices moved toward the far end of the room above.
Andrés waited until a door closed.
Then he climbed the cellar stairs.
He entered a narrow service corridor lined with portraits of dead Valdés ancestors. Dust covered the frames, but the floor had been recently cleaned. Security cameras were mounted in both corners.
One pointed toward him.
He stepped beneath its blind spot, removed the access panel, and disconnected the feed.
The small indicator light remained green.
A false signal.
Someone had upgraded the system professionally.
At the kitchen entrance, he found Elena Cruz, the family’s cook, chopping vegetables with trembling hands.
She saw him and nearly dropped the knife.
Andrés caught it before it struck the floor.
Elena stared at his uniform.
“Holy Mother,” she whispered. “You came.”
“Keep working.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she turned back to the cutting board.
“Is my mother alive?”
“Yes.”
“Is she injured?”
Elena’s knife stopped.
“Not where people can see.”
Andrés moved beside her.
“Who sent the photograph?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is the older man with Renata?”
Elena glanced toward the corridor.
“They call him Doctor Varela.”
“What kind of doctor?”
“No one says.”
“Where is my mother’s physician?”
“Dismissed two months ago.”
“And the servants?”
“Most were dismissed. The rest are watched.”
Elena reached for an onion and intentionally knocked it onto the floor. As she bent down, she whispered, “Your mother tried to send letters. Renata burned them.”
“What did the letters say?”
“That your father was murdered.”
A door opened behind them.
Renata entered the kitchen.
Andrés stepped into the pantry before she saw him.
Through a crack in the wooden door, he watched her approach Elena.
“Why is the camera outside the cellar offline?”
Elena continued chopping.
“The power flickered.”
“There was no flicker.”
“This house is old.”
Renata placed one hand flat on the counter.
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Elena.”
The cook finally looked up.
Renata’s face remained pleasant, but her eyes were empty.
“You have worked for this family for thirty-two years. I would hate for loyalty to become the reason your grandchildren lose their home.”
Elena’s grip tightened around the knife.
“I saw no one.”
Renata studied her for several seconds.
Then she took a black folder from beneath her arm.
“Prepare the dining room for eight. The family is arriving this evening.”
“What family?”
“Everyone Teresa still believes she can trust.”
After Renata left, Andrés remained inside the pantry.
Elena opened the door without looking at him.
“She is gathering witnesses,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“To prove your mother is insane.”
Andrés watched Renata cross the courtyard through the kitchen window.
She stopped beneath an upstairs balcony and looked directly toward Teresa’s room.
Then she spoke into her phone.
“He entered through the east side. Lock Teresa’s door and begin the second dosage.”
Andrés looked at Elena.
“How did she know?”
Elena’s face went pale.
A faint beeping came from inside Andrés’s military bag.
He opened it and found a tracking device sewn beneath the inner lining.
May you like
Renata had not discovered his entrance.
She had known his location from the moment he left the base.
