CHAPTER 3 — THE ROOM BEHIND THE LIBRARY
Ricardo did not sleep that night.
He sat alone in his study with the USB drive on the desk in front of him.
The mansion was quiet.
Too quiet.
Every sound seemed amplified.
The ticking of the grandfather clock.
The distant hum of the air-conditioning.
The occasional movement of security personnel outside.
Ricardo stared at the USB drive.
Someone had spent months collecting evidence.
Photographs of Diego.
Medical records.
Financial transfers.
A forged diagnosis.
A contract designed to transfer control of Galván Holdings.
And Esteban Rivas was at the center of it.
But Ricardo still couldn't answer the most important question.
Why Diego?
Why drug his own child?
Why make him afraid of his father?
And why go to such extraordinary lengths to make Ricardo look unstable?
He inserted the USB drive into his laptop.
The screen remained black for several seconds.
Then a password prompt appeared.
Ricardo frowned.
Of course.
Nothing was ever that easy.
He tried Diego's birthday.
Wrong.
His own birthday.
Wrong.
The date of his marriage to Valeria.
Wrong.
Then he remembered something.
A phrase Diego used to say when he was younger.
“Stars don't disappear.”
Ricardo typed it.
The screen unlocked.
A folder appeared.
There were seven files.
Six were encrypted.
One wasn't.
FILE 01 — OBSERVATION LOG
Ricardo opened it.
His face changed.
It was a detailed record of Diego's behavior.
Every day.
Every meal.
Every medication.
Every emotional reaction.
Every conversation.
Someone had been monitoring the boy like a laboratory subject.
Monday — Refused breakfast.
Tuesday — Asked about father.
Wednesday — Cried for eleven minutes.
Thursday — Mentioned leaving the house.
Friday — Became agitated when father was mentioned.
Ricardo scrolled.
The dates continued.
Then he saw something that made his hand stop.
Subject responds strongly to paternal attachment.
Ricardo stared at the sentence.
Subject.
Not Diego.
Subject.
Whoever wrote this had stopped seeing his son as a child.
He was an experiment.
Ricardo continued.
Objective: increase dependency on maternal authority and reduce emotional resistance.
His breathing became heavier.
The next line was worse.
Secondary objective: establish evidence of instability in father-child relationship.
Ricardo leaned back.
There it was.
The plan.
They hadn't simply wanted Diego to fear him.
They wanted Ricardo to look like the cause of that fear.
He continued reading.
Then the document ended.
One sentence remained.
Phase Two begins after father's return.
Ricardo froze.
Father's return.
They had known when he was coming home.
That meant someone had access to his travel schedule.
Someone inside his company.
Or inside his house.
He immediately called his security chief.
“Javier.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Pull every access record for my travel itinerary over the last six months.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one.”
“Why?”
“Because someone knew exactly when I was coming back.”
A pause.
“Understood.”
Ricardo hung up.
Then he looked toward the library.
Marisol's warning echoed in his mind.
Look under the library floor.
There had to be more.
At 4:36 a.m., Ricardo returned to the library.
He closed the door.
Locked it.
Then pulled the curtains.
He examined the floor again.
The hidden box had been underneath one particular plank.
But why had it been there?
He lifted the board.
There was a narrow cavity beneath it.
Ricardo reached inside.
His fingers touched something metallic.
He pulled it out.
A key.
Old.
Black.
Stamped with a number.
17.
Ricardo stared at it.
He knew the mansion's rooms.
There was no Room 17.
He took out his phone and pulled up the architectural plans.
The house had sixteen numbered service rooms.
Nothing labeled 17.
He enlarged the blueprint.
Then noticed something.
The library wall was unusually thick.
Much thicker than the surrounding walls.
Ricardo walked toward the bookshelves.
He examined the shelves one by one.
Then he noticed a small brass ornament shaped like an eagle.
He pulled it.
Nothing happened.
He pushed it.
A click.
One section of the bookshelf moved backward.
Ricardo stepped away.
The entire shelf slowly swung inward.
Behind it was a narrow staircase.
His pulse accelerated.
He turned on his flashlight.
The staircase descended into darkness.
He walked down.
One step.
Then another.
The air became colder.
The smell changed.
Dust.
Old wood.
And something chemical.
At the bottom was a metal door.
There was a lock.
Ricardo held up the key.
Number 17.
It fit.
He turned it.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Ricardo stopped.
The room beyond was not a storage room.
It was a surveillance room.
Three monitors.
A desk.
A filing cabinet.
A camera-control system.
And dozens of folders.
His stomach tightened.
He walked toward the monitors.
The screens were off.
But the equipment was still connected.
Someone had been using this room recently.
Ricardo opened the first drawer.
Inside were printed photographs.
His son.
Again.
But these were different.
They showed Diego sleeping.
Eating.
Changing clothes.
Sitting alone.
Playing.
Crying.
Every private moment of his childhood had been recorded.
Ricardo felt sick.
He opened another drawer.
There were audio transcripts.
He picked one up.
Recording 18 — Subject discussing father.
Then another.
Recording 23 — Subject refuses medication.
Then another.
Recording 31 — Subject attempts to contact housekeeper.
Ricardo's hands trembled.
He opened the final folder.
A list of names.
Employees.
Drivers.
Security guards.
Doctors.
Teachers.
Even his personal assistant.
Beside each name was a note.
Reliable.
Compromised.
Uncertain.
Remove.
Ricardo scanned the list.
Then stopped.
His own security chief was there.
JAVIER MENDOZA — COMPROMISED.
Ricardo stared.
“No.”
He immediately called Javier.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Ricardo lowered the phone.
Then heard something.
A faint sound behind him.
He turned.
Nothing.
He checked the hallway.
Empty.
He returned to the room.
The monitor suddenly turned on.
Ricardo froze.
A video began playing.
It showed Diego sitting at a small table.
His eyes were red.
A man's voice came from behind the camera.
“Who do you love more?”
Diego whispered:
“Daddy.”
The man's voice became colder.
“Wrong answer.”
Ricardo's hands curled into fists.
The recording continued.
“Who is dangerous?”
Diego stared at the table.
“Daddy.”
“Good.”
Ricardo felt rage rise inside him.
Then another voice entered the recording.
Valeria.
“Again.”
Diego began crying.
“Daddy is dangerous.”
“Louder.”
“Daddy is dangerous.”
Ricardo slammed his hand onto the desk.
The video froze.
Then a new screen appeared.
Live footage.
Ricardo looked at it.
It was the hospital.
Diego's room.
His son was sleeping.
Ricardo's blood ran cold.
Someone was still watching him.
He turned toward the surveillance equipment.
Then the screen changed.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE OPENED ROOM 17.
Ricardo stepped backward.
Another message appeared.
NOW THEY KNOW YOU KNOW.
The screen went black.
Ricardo immediately ran upstairs.
He grabbed his phone.
Called the hospital.
“Put me through to my son's room.”
The nurse answered.
“Mr. Galván?”
“Is my son there?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone with him?”
“No.”
“Check the room.”
A pause.
Then:
“Sir…”
“What?”
“The room is empty.”
Ricardo's blood froze.
“What?”
“He's gone.”
Ricardo reached the hospital less than twenty minutes later.
Security guards were already running through the corridor.
The nurse was crying.
The doctor stood beside the empty bed.
The IV line had been disconnected.
The blanket was on the floor.
The window was locked.
The door had not been forced.
Ricardo stared at the empty bed.
“No.”
The doctor stepped toward him.
“We're checking every camera.”
“Where is my son?”
“We don't know.”
Ricardo turned.
“Who had access?”
The nurse looked terrified.
“Only authorized personnel.”
“Names.”
She handed him the list.
Ricardo scanned it.
Then stopped.
One name was highlighted.
Valeria Galván.
His ex-wife.
Ricardo's face hardened.
“Where is she?”
Nobody answered.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ricardo answered.
A man's voice spoke.
“Mr. Galván.”
“Where is my son?”
A quiet laugh.
“That's the wrong question.”
Ricardo's voice became deadly.
“Give me my son.”
“You want Diego back?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop looking for the people who hurt him.”
Ricardo's eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?”
The voice paused.
Then said:
“Ask yourself why your own father left you the company.”
Ricardo froze.
“What?”
The line went dead.
He stared at the phone.
His father.
The company.
The contract.
Esteban.
Valeria.
Diego.
There was another secret.
May you like
One that went back far longer than three months.
And somewhere, someone had just taken his son to force Ricardo to uncover it.
