Chapter 4: The Dead Woman’s Voice

Alejandro listened to the recording three times.

Each time, the voice became more familiar.

Older.

Colder.

But unmistakable.

Isabella Castillo.

His mother.

The woman whose coffin he had followed through Madrid in the rain ten years earlier.

The woman whose ashes he had scattered at the family estate in Seville.

The woman who had just ordered Elena’s death.

“This is impossible,” he said.

Vivian gave a quiet laugh.

“Your family built an empire by making impossible things disappear.”

Alejandro turned on her.

“Where is Isabella?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“She stopped trusting me two years ago.”

“Why?”

Vivian’s expression tightened.

“Because I failed to break Elena.”

Elena flinched.

Alejandro saw it.

Every word was another wound.

He stepped between them.

“You will not address her again.”

Vivian tilted her head.

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know exactly how strong she is.”

“No, you don’t. You left her alone in this house.”

The words struck.

Alejandro did not defend himself.

Because part of him believed them.

He had left for what was supposed to be a six-day business trip to Dubai.

When he returned, Elena was gone.

Her car had been found near a cliff.

Blood on the driver’s seat.

A torn scarf near the rocks.

No body.

The evidence had pointed toward a fatal accident.

But Alejandro had refused to believe it.

He had searched the world.

Every continent.

Every private airport.

Every hospital.

Every morgue.

He had never searched beneath his own wine cellar.

Vivian saw the guilt in his face.

“That is why Isabella chose this place,” she said. “The closer something is, the less a powerful man sees it.”

Alejandro looked at the scratches covering the concrete wall.

He had held charity dinners above this room.

Signed international contracts.

Celebrated birthdays.

All while Elena suffered beneath his feet.

He turned away.

“Elena needs a doctor not connected to this family.”

“I don’t want a doctor,” Elena said.

He faced her.

“Then no doctor.”

Her eyes searched his face, surprised by the immediate answer.

Rosa stepped forward.

“Mrs. Castillo, there is a guest room beside the courtyard. No locks. Two doors. Windows facing the garden.”

Elena hesitated.

“No cameras?”

“We’ll check every wall,” Alejandro said.

“No men outside the door.”

“Only Rosa, if you permit it.”

Elena looked at Rosa.

Then nodded.

As they started toward the stairs, she paused beside Dr. Romero.

“You told me she died.”

Romero’s face twisted.

“Elena—”

“You placed my daughter in my arms.”

Alejandro stopped.

Romero lowered his head.

“You said she stopped breathing.”

“I was ordered to.”

“Was she alive?”

“Yes.”

The word broke from him.

Elena closed her eyes.

Alejandro gripped the railing.

“Where did you take her?”

Romero’s voice shook.

“I handed her to a nurse.”

“Name.”

“Teresa Bell.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.”

Alejandro turned to security.

“Find her.”

Romero spoke quickly.

“She vanished six months later.”

“Then find where she vanished from.”

As Elena reached the top step, a sound echoed through the cellar.

A slow mechanical click.

The steel door began closing.

“Move!” Alejandro shouted.

The guards shoved everyone through the doorway moments before it sealed.

The keypad flashed red.

A message appeared on the small screen.

YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE PAST STAY BURIED.

Then every alarm in the mansion began screaming.

The sprinklers activated.

Not with water.

With thick white smoke.

Servants coughed and scattered.

Visibility disappeared.

Alejandro pulled Elena close before realizing what he had done.

Her body locked in his arms.

He released her instantly.

“I’m sorry.”

She grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t let go.”

The words nearly stopped him.

He held her hand.

Not tightly.

Just enough.

Security shouted through the smoke.

“The power grid is compromised!”

“Seal the exits!” Alejandro ordered.

A crash sounded near the kitchen.

Then another.

Someone was inside the mansion.

A figure moved through the white haze.

Elena saw it first.

She screamed, “Alejandro!”

A masked man rushed toward them holding a syringe.

Alejandro blocked him.

They collided against the cellar racks.

Bottles shattered.

The attacker swung.

Alejandro caught his wrist and drove him into the wall.

The syringe fell.

A guard tackled the man.

Another figure appeared behind Elena.

Rosa grabbed a brass candlestick and struck the attacker’s arm before he could seize her.

Security overwhelmed him.

Within minutes, the smoke began clearing.

Two intruders lay restrained on the floor.

Both wore maintenance uniforms.

Both carried syringes.

Both had the same small black tattoo behind the left ear.

A crown split by a vertical line.

Vivian saw the mark and went pale.

Alejandro noticed.

“You recognize it.”

She looked away.

He grabbed one attacker by the collar and ripped off his mask.

The man was in his fifties.

Scarred face.

Dead eyes.

Elena stared at him.

Then collapsed against the wall.

“I know him.”

Alejandro turned.

“From where?”

“He drove the car.”

The attacker smiled.

“Elena Castillo,” he said. “You always remembered too much.”

Alejandro struck him once.

Hard.

The man laughed through the blood at his lip.

“Ask your wife why she was at the clinic before the kidnapping.”

Alejandro looked at Elena.

She had gone completely still.

The attacker’s smile widened.

“She wasn’t investigating you.”

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He turned his gaze toward Alejandro.

“She was planning to leave you.”