Chapter 4 - THE SECOND KEY
Andrés followed Mateo outside.
“Hey.”
Mateo turned.
Andrés pointed.
“You dropped something.”
Mateo looked down automatically.
That was enough.
Andrés reached toward the key in his pocket.
Mateo jerked back.
“What are you doing?”
“Thought that was mine.”
“It isn’t.”
“Looks familiar.”
Mateo pushed it deeper into his pocket.
“Office key.”
“Funny shape for an office key.”
Renata appeared behind Andrés.
“Babe.”
That word.
Babe.
She only used it when she wanted him to stop doing something.
Andrés turned.
“What?”
“You need rest.”
He looked from Renata to Mateo.
Then smiled.
“Sure.”
Mateo drove away.
Andrés watched the car until it disappeared.
Behind him, Renata said, “That was embarrassing.”
“For him?”
“For me.”
“Why?”
“You accused him of sleeping with me.”
“I made a joke.”
“That wasn’t funny.”
“No.”
Andrés turned.
“It really wasn’t.”
They stared at each other.
Renata crossed her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Standing in my driveway.”
“You know what I mean.”
Andrés walked past her.
“Do I?”
Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Your mother has been poisoning you against me.”
He looked down at her fingers.
“Take your hand off.”
She did.
Slowly.
“You think I don’t see it?” Renata whispered. “You came home looking for an enemy.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I came home looking for coffee.”
Then he entered the house.
That afternoon, Andrés called Dr. Molina.
The physician sounded surprised.
“I haven’t diagnosed Teresa with dementia.”
Andrés gripped the phone.
“What did you diagnose?”
“Nothing definitive.”
“Did you recommend psychiatric hospitalization?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you prescribe clonazepam?”
Silence.
“Andrés, I think we should talk in person.”
“Did you prescribe it?”
“No.”
That single word hit harder than a confession.
Dr. Molina continued.
“When I visited, your mother seemed sedated. Renata said Teresa had taken sleep medication.”
“Did you document that?”
“Yes.”
“I need a copy.”
“I can’t just—”
“My mother is being held in a locked room and drugged with medication you did not prescribe.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Come to my office at six.”
“I’ll be there.”
Andrés ended the call.
Renata stood behind him.
He hadn’t heard her enter.
“Who was that?”
“My commander.”
“About what?”
“Leave extension.”
“You’re extending your leave?”
“For Mom.”
Her lips tightened.
“That’s unnecessary.”
“I disagree.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“No.”
Andrés slipped the phone into his pocket.
“I’m her son.”
Renata stepped closer.
“She needs professional care.”
“Maybe.”
“Then sign the papers.”
“I will.”
Renata blinked.
Andrés smiled.
“After I read them.”
The smile disappeared.
At 5:30, Andrés left the house.
He drove two blocks.
Parked.
Waited.
At 5:42, Renata’s car passed.
She was supposed to be home with Teresa.
Andrés followed.
She didn’t drive to the pharmacy.
She didn’t go to a friend’s house.
She drove to Mateo’s real-estate office.
Andrés parked across the street.
Through the large front windows, he watched Renata walk inside.
Mateo locked the front door behind her.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
No hesitation.
No resistance.
They kissed like people who had been waiting all day.
Andrés felt something inside him collapse.
Not explode.
Collapse.
Quietly.
He stared through the windshield.
He remembered Renata sleeping on his chest during thunderstorms.
Renata crying at their wedding.
Renata packing food for his missions.
Renata saying, Come home safe.
He had wondered how much of his marriage was real.
Now he wondered if any of it had been.
He raised his phone.
Recorded.
Three minutes.
Five.
Then Renata and Mateo moved toward the back office.
Before disappearing, Mateo pulled something from a cabinet.
A document tube.
Renata opened it.
Inside was a large rolled sheet.
They spread it across a desk.
Andrés zoomed in.
Blueprint?
Property plan?
Then he saw the address typed across the top.
His mother’s address.
Their house.
And beside it, a bold red stamp:
PRELIMINARY SALE AGREEMENT.
Andrés lowered the phone.
They weren’t preparing to steal money.
May you like
They were preparing to sell the house.
With Teresa still inside it.
