Chapter 7 - THE OLD SECRET
Teresa didn’t deny it.
That was worse.
Andrés sat beside the hospital bed.
“What did Renata mean?”
Teresa stared at the wall.
“Mom.”
Nothing.
“She told me to ask what happened to Dad.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“Your wife is desperate.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Andrés—”
“What happened?”
She opened her eyes.
For the first time since he returned, she looked old.
Not drugged.
Not weak.
Old.
“I lied to you.”
Andrés felt his pulse rise.
“About what?”
“Your father’s death.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“He wasn’t killed by a stranger.”
Andrés stood.
“Who?”
Teresa’s voice broke.
“Your uncle.”
Andrés stared at her.
“Uncle Raúl?”
“Yes.”
Raúl had died nine years ago.
Liver failure.
He had spent his final years drinking and borrowing money from everyone.
“Why?”
“They were fighting.”
“About what?”
“The house.”
Of course.
Always the house.
Teresa continued.
“Your grandfather left it to me. Raúl believed your father had cheated him out of part of the inheritance.”
“My father?”
“He was trying to help me protect it.”
“What happened?”
“They drank. Fought. Raúl drove away. Your father followed him on foot.”
Teresa swallowed.
“Raúl hit him with the truck.”
Andrés felt dizzy.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you told police it was a hit-and-run.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Raúl?”
“Of losing you.”
He laughed.
A broken sound.
“You let me grow up thinking some stranger killed him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Andrés stepped away.
“You don’t get to use that word yet.”
Teresa cried silently.
He hated the sight.
Hated that he still wanted to comfort her.
“What does Renata have to do with this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Teresa looked at him.
“Raúl left letters.”
“What letters?”
“Confessions. Apologies. Things he wrote when he was drinking.”
“Where?”
“I hid them.”
“Where?”
“In the old house documents.”
Andrés remembered the document tube in Mateo’s office.
His stomach dropped.
“Did Renata know?”
“She found one.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“And then?”
“She asked me questions.”
Teresa wiped her cheek.
“I told her to mind her business.”
Andrés understood.
Renata had leverage.
A dead man.
A hidden crime.
A mother terrified of scandal.
And a property worth millions.
“What did she threaten?”
“To tell you.”
Andrés looked away.
“She said if I transferred the house voluntarily, she would destroy the letters.”
“And when you refused?”
Teresa looked at her bruised wrists.
“You know what happened.”
Andrés walked out before his anger became something he couldn’t control.
His phone showed fourteen missed calls.
Three from Salgado.
Two from his commander.
Nine from Renata.
Then a message appeared.
RENATA:
COME HOME. WE CAN END THIS.
A second message arrived.
RENATA:
COME ALONE.
Then a photograph.
Andrés opened it.
His blood went cold.
Mrs. Lucha, the neighbor, sat in Teresa’s kitchen.
Tape over her mouth.
Hands tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Mateo.
And in his hand was a gun.
The next message contained only one sentence.
May you like
RENATA:
BRING THE HOSPITAL EVIDENCE OR SHE DIES.
