Chapter 3 : The Shadow of the Past

Chapter 3 : The Shadow of the Past

The silence that followed the disconnected call was absolute. Mrs. Hernández stared at the receiver, the plastic cool against her damp skin. Her mind raced, the words "not his sister" echoing like a tolling bell. She looked down at Mariana, whose face was ghostly in the dim light, and then toward the door, where the sound of the idling car engine grew louder—a heartbeat of steel and frustration.

"Mother!" Don Ernesto’s voice boomed from the driveway, frantic and impatient. "We’re losing time!"

Mrs. Hernández didn't move. She couldn't. The woman who had climbed those stairs with a stick to demand breakfast was dead; in her place stood a woman fighting for the soul of her son. She rushed to the mirror, splashing cold water on her face, then grabbed the note from the floor—the one written by Lucía. She folded it tightly and tucked it into her apron.

She ran down the stairs, her knees screaming, but she ignored the pain. She burst through the front door into the humid morning air. Don Ernesto was already behind the wheel, his face a map of terror and regret.

"Get in!" he barked.

"No," she said, pulling the passenger door shut. "You stay here. You call the police—not the local ones, the ones in the city. If Lucía is involved, this is about more than a family dispute. She’s extorting us."

"Lucía? What are you talking about?"

May you like

She claimed she was enforcing discipline. She was actually trying to sil...

My husband smashed a plate against my head in front of his entire family...

# My Husband Smashed a Plate Against My Head in Front of His Entire Family—Because I Refused to Give His Mother My CondoThey belie...

When a stepmother's greed turns into an open threat against an infant.

Mrs. Hernández didn't answer. She climbed into the driver’s seat. She hadn't driven in years, but a primal instinct surged through her veins. "If she wants a confession, she’ll get one. But I’m going to get my son back first."

As she peeled out of the driveway, gravel spraying into the yard, she saw a figure standing at the edge of the woods bordering their property. A woman in a black coat, watching the house. Lucía. The realization hit her like a physical blow, but she didn't stop. She drove toward the bridge, her knuckles white, praying that the truth was as simple as a lie, and not as complex as the betrayal she now suspected.