Chapter 5 — The Man Who Was Buried Alive
The car became completely silent.
Alejandro stared at the phone in his hand.
Lucía watched him.
“What did he say?”
Alejandro didn't answer immediately.
His mind was moving too quickly.
His father.
Alive.
Impossible.
He had attended the funeral.
He had watched the coffin disappear beneath the ground.
He had stood beside his mother.
He had cried.
He had delivered the eulogy.
He had personally signed the death certificate.
Four years.
Four years of believing his father was dead.
Four years of believing he had inherited an empire from a man who could no longer speak to him.
And now—
someone had called him and claimed that his father was alive.
“Who was it?”
Lucía asked again.
“I don't know.”
“What did he want?”
“He didn't say.”
Mateo glanced at them through the rearview mirror.
“What happened?”
Alejandro looked at him.
“Someone says my father is alive.”
Mateo's expression changed.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he asked:
“Did they give you proof?”
“No.”
“Then we assume it's a trap.”
Alejandro looked at the inheritance document.
“Maybe.”
“But?”
Alejandro's eyes hardened.
“But they knew about my father.”
Mateo nodded.
“That's significant.”
“Turn around.”
“Where?”
“The cemetery.”
Lucía looked at him.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I need to see the grave.”
Mateo hesitated.
Then turned the vehicle around.
The Montero family cemetery was located outside the city.
Private.
Heavily guarded.
Hidden behind stone walls and iron gates.
At 3:38 a.m., they arrived.
The cemetery was dark.
Only the security lights illuminated the rows of graves.
Alejandro stepped out.
Cold wind moved through the trees.
Lucía remained in the car.
Mateo checked the perimeter.
“It's clear.”
Alejandro walked toward his father's grave.
The name was carved into black granite.
ESTEBAN MONTERO
1958–2022
His father's name.
His father's dates.
His death.
Alejandro knelt.
He placed his hand against the stone.
“I came to see if you're really dead.”
Nothing.
He laughed bitterly.
“That's a ridiculous thing to say.”
Mateo approached.
“Sir.”
Alejandro looked at him.
“Open it.”
Mateo stared.
“Sir?”
“The grave.”
“That's illegal.”
“I don't care.”
Mateo hesitated.
Alejandro stood.
“If my father is alive, I need to know.”
“And if he's not?”
Alejandro looked at the grave.
“Then I bury the question with him.”
Mateo called two trusted men.
Twenty minutes later, the grave was opened.
Alejandro stood beside it.
His heart pounded.
The coffin was lifted.
The lid was removed.
Inside—
nothing.
Alejandro froze.
There was no body.
Only folded blankets.
The men stepped backward.
Lucía covered her mouth.
Mateo stared.
“That's impossible.”
Alejandro couldn't speak.
His father's grave had been empty for four years.
The funeral had been a performance.
The body had never been there.
Alejandro looked at Mateo.
“Find the funeral home.”
Mateo nodded.
“Immediately.”
“Find the doctor who signed the death certificate.”
“Yes.”
“Find everyone who attended the burial.”
Mateo hesitated.
“Your mother?”
“Especially my mother.”
Lucía stepped closer.
“Alejandro.”
He turned.
She was holding something.
The inheritance document.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
She pointed to the bottom.
A tiny handwritten number.
17.
Alejandro stared.
“Box 17.”
“Yes.”
“The hotel archive.”
“We already opened it.”
“No.”
Alejandro's eyes narrowed.
“The document says Box 17.”
“We found my medical file.”
“Not everything.”
Lucía frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Alejandro looked toward the empty grave.
“Maybe your file was only one part of it.”
They returned to the Gran Imperial before dawn.
The hotel was almost empty.
Police vehicles were parked outside.
The shooting had created chaos.
But the owner was nowhere to be found.
Victor had disappeared.
So had several security guards.
Alejandro entered through the private entrance.
Mateo followed.
Lucía stayed close.
They reached the basement archive.
The bullet holes remained.
Broken shelves.
Scattered documents.
Blood on the floor.
The body had already been removed.
Alejandro walked toward Box 17.
He opened it.
The medical records were gone.
Lucía looked at him.
“Someone took them.”
Alejandro nodded.
“But there was another compartment.”
He examined the box.
Pressed the bottom.
Nothing.
Then he turned it upside down.
A small metal panel fell open.
Inside was a microfilm.
Alejandro picked it up.
“What is that?”
“Records.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
They took it upstairs.
Mateo found an old reader in the hotel's administrative office.
The machine was dusty.
But functional.
Alejandro inserted the microfilm.
Images appeared.
Documents.
Bank transfers.
Property deeds.
Hospital records.
Police reports.
Names.
Dates.
Transactions.
Then—
his father's death certificate.
Alejandro stared.
The document on the screen was different from the one he had seen.
The cause of death was not heart failure.
It read:
TOXIC EXPOSURE.
Alejandro's face went numb.
He kept scrolling.
A medical report.
Blood analysis.
A toxic substance.
A private clinic.
And one name.
Dr. Samuel Ortega.
Alejandro recognized it.
The family physician.
The man who had declared his father dead.
He looked at Mateo.
“Find him.”
Mateo immediately made the call.
Another document appeared.
A payment record.
$2.8 million.
From an account belonging to—
Elena Montero.
Alejandro stared.
His mother had paid the doctor.
The payment was made two days before his father's supposed death.
His hands began shaking.
Lucía placed her hand over his.
“I told you.”
He looked at her.
“I know.”
Then another document appeared.
A transfer from Elena's account.
To Rafael.
Then another.
To Valeria Cruz.
Alejandro stopped.
“Valeria.”
Lucía nodded.
“She was part of it.”
Alejandro continued scrolling.
There were payments made over seven months.
Hotels.
Private investigators.
Doctors.
Security companies.
And one final payment.
A company called Cruz Strategic Holdings.
Alejandro searched the name.
The company was registered to Valeria's father.
But there was something unusual.
The company had been dissolved six years earlier.
Yet money continued flowing through it.
Mateo leaned closer.
“Shell company.”
Alejandro nodded.
“Who controls it?”
Mateo checked.
His face changed.
“Rafael.”
Alejandro closed his eyes.
His brother.
Again.
Always his brother.
But then another document appeared.
A payment made three years ago.
From Rafael.
To Victor Salazar.
And a note:
KEEP THE GIRL UNDER CONTROL.
Alejandro's heart stopped.
“The girl.”
Lucía whispered.
“Who?”
They continued scrolling.
A photograph appeared.
A young Lucía.
Taken before her marriage.
Alejandro stared.
He had never seen it.
Lucía looked younger.
Maybe twenty-four.
Standing beside an older man.
Esteban Montero.
Alejandro's father.
Lucía gasped.
“I've never seen this.”
Alejandro stared at his father.
Why was he standing with Lucía?
Then the next photograph appeared.
Lucía was holding a baby.
Alejandro's breathing stopped.
A newborn.
A small boy.
The image had been taken years before Alejandro met her.
Lucía shook her head.
“I don't know that baby.”
Alejandro stared.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Then a handwritten note appeared beneath the photograph.
THE FIRST CHILD FAILED.
Lucía's face went white.
“What does that mean?”
Alejandro didn't know.
The next document answered.
SECOND ATTEMPT — ALEJANDRO AND LUCÍA.
Lucía stepped backward.
“No.”
Alejandro turned toward her.
“Lucía?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Look at me.”
“I don't want to.”
“You need to.”
“No.”
She covered her face.
“I can't.”
Alejandro gently lowered her hands.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing.”
“Try.”
She closed her eyes.
Then—
a memory surfaced.
A hospital.
Bright lights.
A nurse.
A baby crying.
A man standing beside her.
Esteban.
Her eyes opened.
“I remember him.”
Alejandro froze.
“My father?”
She nodded.
“He was there.”
“When?”
“The night I gave birth.”
Alejandro stared.
“You have another child?”
Lucía began crying.
“I don't know.”
“Where is the child?”
“I don't remember.”
She pressed her hands against her temples.
“I remember being pregnant.”
“Who was the father?”
She looked at Alejandro.
“You.”
His breath caught.
“But that was years before we met.”
Lucía shook her head.
“I don't know.”
She began crying harder.
Alejandro held her.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then a noise came from the hallway.
Mateo drew his weapon.
Someone ran.
Mateo chased him.
Alejandro remained with Lucía.
She looked at the screen.
Another file had appeared.
PROJECT MONTERO — PHASE TWO
Underneath:
THE FEMALE SUBJECT HAS NO MEMORY OF THE FIRST PROCEDURE.
Alejandro stared.
“Procedure?”
Lucía looked horrified.
“What did they do to me?”
The answer appeared in the next line.
MEMORY SUPPRESSION SUCCESSFUL.
Alejandro felt sick.
Someone had erased Lucía's memories.
And if the document was real—
then her missing seven months weren't the first thing that had been taken from her.
Someone had been controlling her life for years.
Mateo returned.
He was holding a phone.
“I caught him.”
Alejandro looked up.
“Who?”
“A technician.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Alejandro stood.
“What?”
“He jumped from the stairwell.”
Lucía's face went pale.
“He killed himself?”
Mateo shook his head.
“No.”
He showed Alejandro the phone.
A message had been sent moments before the man died.
THE FATHER IS ALIVE.
Alejandro stared.
Then another message appeared.
AND HE KNOWS ABOUT THE FIRST CHILD.
Lucía collapsed into the chair.
“No…”
Alejandro knelt beside her.
“Lucía.”
She looked at him.
“I think…”
Her voice trembled.
“I think I had a child before you and I were married.”
Alejandro felt his chest tighten.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Who was the father?”
She stared at him.
“You.”
“But that's impossible.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Lucía's tears fell.
“Because maybe we knew each other before we remember.”
Alejandro froze.
The possibility was horrifying.
His father.
The hidden hospital.
The erased memories.
The first child.
The inheritance.
Everything pointed toward a past neither of them remembered.
Then Alejandro noticed a line at the bottom of the document.
MEMORY RESTORATION FILE — SUBJECT A. MONTERO.
Subject A.
Alejandro.
His pulse quickened.
There was a second file.
SUBJECT L. MONTERO.
Lucía's.
Someone had deliberately erased memories from both of them.
He looked at the timestamp.
The files were created four years ago.
The same year his father supposedly died.
Alejandro whispered:
“They didn't just erase your memory.”
Lucía looked at him.
“They erased mine too.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
Alejandro didn't know.
Then the door opened.
A woman stood there.
Valeria.
She looked exhausted.
Her red dress was gone.
She wore a simple black coat.
She closed the door behind her.
Alejandro immediately stood.
“What are you doing here?”
Valeria looked at Lucía.
Then at Alejandro.
“I came to tell you the truth.”
Alejandro laughed.
“You should have done that seven months ago.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
Valeria looked toward the hallway.
“Your father.”
Silence.
Alejandro's expression changed.
“My father is dead.”
“No.”
Valeria shook her head.
“He isn't.”
Alejandro stepped toward her.
“Where is he?”
Valeria looked at Lucía.
“He has been alive this entire time.”
“Where?”
Valeria swallowed.
“In a private medical facility.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn't remember who he is.”
Alejandro froze.
“What?”
Valeria's voice broke.
“They did the same thing to him.”
“Who?”
Valeria looked at the documents.
“Your mother.”
Alejandro's face hardened.
“Why?”
Valeria began crying.
“Because your father discovered what she had done.”
“What did she do?”
Valeria stared at him.
“She didn't kill him.”
Alejandro frowned.
“Then what?”
“She made everyone believe he was dead.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew about the children.”
Lucía stepped forward.
“Which children?”
Valeria looked at her.
“The one you lost…”
She paused.
“And the one you're carrying now.”
Lucía's hand moved over her stomach.
Valeria whispered:
“They were never supposed to survive.”
Alejandro stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
Valeria looked at the door.
Then lowered her voice.
“Your mother didn't want an heir.”
“She wanted control.”
Alejandro's face darkened.
“And Rafael?”
Valeria closed her eyes.
“He helped her.”
“And you?”
Valeria began crying.
“I helped them too.”
Lucía looked at her with disbelief.
“Why?”
Valeria whispered:
“Because they had my little sister.”
Silence.
Alejandro stared.
“Your sister?”
Valeria nodded.
“They threatened to kill her if I didn't obey.”
Alejandro took a step toward her.
“Where is she?”
Valeria looked at him.
“That's the problem.”
“What?”
“She disappeared six months ago.”
Lucía's eyes widened.
“Just like me.”
Valeria nodded.
“Yes.”
Then the lights went out.
Again.
A phone rang somewhere in the darkness.
Alejandro reached for Lucía.
“Stay behind me.”
The phone kept ringing.
Mateo switched on a flashlight.
A single object sat on the desk.
A photograph.
Alejandro walked toward it.
He picked it up.
His hands began trembling.
The photograph showed an older man lying in a hospital bed.
His face was thinner.
His hair gray.
But there was no mistaking him.
Esteban Montero.
Alive.
On the back was a handwritten message.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR FATHER TO LIVE.
Alejandro stared.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
YOU HAVE TWO HOURS.
Another message followed.
BRING THE WOMAN AND THE CHILD.
Alejandro's blood ran cold.
Lucía read the message over his shoulder.
“The child?”
Alejandro looked at her.
“They know.”
“Who?”
He stared at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
Then a final message appeared.
AND ALEJANDRO…
A pause.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO THE FIRST CHILD REALLY WAS.
Alejandro slowly lowered the phone.
His entire body went cold.
Because suddenly he understood.
The first child wasn't a separate mystery.
It was the key.
Someone had erased the child's existence.
Someone had erased Lucía's memories.
Someone had convinced Alejandro his wife had betrayed him.
Someone had hidden his father alive.
And someone had spent years preparing for the moment when Lucía would become pregnant again.
Alejandro looked at his wife.
He gently took her hand.
“This time, they won't take you from me.”
Lucía looked into his eyes.
“And if they try?”
Alejandro's expression hardened.
“Then they will learn exactly why my father was afraid of me remembering.”
Outside the office, a car engine started.
Mateo rushed to the window.
A black SUV disappeared into the darkness.
He looked back.
“Sir…”
Alejandro turned.
“What?”
Mateo's voice was quiet.
“The vehicle belongs to your mother.”
Alejandro stared through the window.
Elena knew.
She knew they had found the records.
She knew they had discovered the truth about Esteban.
And now—
she was moving.
Alejandro picked up the photograph of his father.
“We're going to find him.”
Lucía nodded.
“And then?”
Alejandro looked toward the city.
“Then we find our first child.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And after that…”
He looked at the documents spread across the desk.
“We destroy every lie they built.”
But neither of them noticed the tiny red light blinking beneath the desk.
Someone was still watching.
And whoever was watching had heard everything.
Including the location they planned to go next.
The hospital.
The place where Alejandro's supposedly dead father had been hidden for four years.
May you like
And before dawn—
someone would be waiting for them there.
