CHAPTER 4 — THREE MONTHS OF LIES
Ricardo stood in the middle of Diego's empty hospital room.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe properly.
His son's bed was empty.
The machines were still running.
The IV stand remained beside the bed.
But Diego was gone.
Someone had taken him.
Someone had walked into a secured pediatric unit, removed a seven-year-old child under medical supervision, and disappeared without triggering an alarm.
That meant one thing.
This wasn't a kidnapping from the outside.
Someone had access.
Someone inside.
Ricardo looked at the security chief.
“Lock down the hospital.”
Javier's replacement, Andrés, stepped forward.
“Already done.”
“Every entrance?”
“Yes.”
“Parking garages?”
“Yes.”
“Service elevators?”
“Everything.”
Ricardo nodded.
“Pull the footage from the last six hours.”
“We're doing that now.”
“And find Valeria.”
A guard approached.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
They walked to the security room.
A dozen monitors covered the wall.
Andrés pointed.
“Look.”
The footage showed the hallway outside Diego's room.
At 3:14 a.m., a nurse entered.
At 3:19, she left.
At 3:27, a maintenance worker approached.
Ricardo narrowed his eyes.
“Pause.”
The footage froze.
The maintenance worker wore a gray uniform.
Cap.
Mask.
Gloves.
Ricardo leaned closer.
“Zoom.”
The image sharpened.
The man's left wrist became visible.
A silver watch.
Ricardo's stomach tightened.
“Esteban.”
Andrés looked at him.
“Who?”
“Esteban Rivas.”
The footage continued.
The man entered Diego's room.
Seven minutes later, he came out.
But Diego wasn't visible.
Ricardo stared.
“Where is the child?”
Andrés rewound.
Again.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Ricardo noticed something.
The maintenance worker was pushing a large linen cart.
“Open the service corridor footage.”
They switched cameras.
The same cart appeared.
It moved toward the service elevator.
Then disappeared.
Ricardo's jaw tightened.
“Where does that elevator go?”
“Basement.”
“Show me.”
The footage appeared.
The elevator doors opened.
The man stepped out.
But the cart was empty.
Ricardo stared.
“Where is Diego?”
Andrés shook his head.
“We don't know.”
Then Ricardo saw it.
A second person entered the frame.
A woman.
Long dark hair.
Black coat.
She walked toward the maintenance worker.
Ricardo zoomed in.
His heart stopped.
Valeria.
She handed the man something.
Then they separated.
Ricardo whispered:
“She was here.”
Andrés looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
“I know my ex-wife.”
Ricardo's hands trembled with anger.
“She took my son.”
At 6:10 a.m., Ricardo's phone rang.
It was Valeria.
He answered immediately.
“Where is Diego?”
Silence.
Then Valeria spoke.
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
“Where is my son?”
“You shouldn't have gone into that room.”
Ricardo's blood ran cold.
“How do you know about Room 17?”
Valeria didn't answer.
“Where is Diego?”
“He's alive.”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“Put him on the phone.”
“No.”
“Valeria.”
“Listen to me.”
Her voice was shaking.
“For once in your life, listen before you act.”
“You drugged our son.”
“I never wanted him hurt.”
“Then where is he?”
“I was trying to protect him.”
Ricardo laughed bitterly.
“Protect him?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
Valeria went silent.
Ricardo heard her breathing.
Then she whispered:
“From your family.”
The line went dead.
Ricardo stared at his phone.
Your family.
Not Esteban.
Not herself.
His family.
He immediately called his father's old attorney.
The man didn't answer.
He called another.
No answer.
Then he remembered something.
His father had kept a private archive.
Documents no one was allowed to access.
Ricardo had forgotten about it.
Or perhaps he had been told to forget.
Two hours later, Ricardo returned to the Galván mansion.
The gates opened.
Security searched his vehicle.
He entered alone.
The house looked exactly as he had left it.
But now every room felt hostile.
Ricardo walked straight to his father's old office.
The room had been untouched since his death.
Dust covered the desk.
Old books lined the walls.
A portrait of Ricardo's father hung above the fireplace.
Ricardo stared at it.
“Dad…”
He had not spoken to the portrait in years.
Now he did.
“What did you leave me?”
He searched the desk.
Nothing.
Then the drawers.
Nothing.
Finally, he remembered something his father used to say.
Never trust the obvious door.
Ricardo looked toward the wall.
There were three doors.
One led to the hallway.
One to the bathroom.
One to a storage room.
The storage room door had no handle.
Ricardo approached.
He pressed his hand against it.
Nothing.
Then he noticed the portrait.
He moved it.
Behind it was a keypad.
Ricardo stared.
He tried his father's birthday.
Wrong.
His mother's birthday.
Wrong.
The year Galván Holdings was founded.
Wrong.
Then he remembered the family motto.
Blood remembers what money forgets.
He entered the first letters.
The lock clicked.
The wall opened.
Behind it was a narrow archive.
Ricardo stepped inside.
Rows of documents.
Old photographs.
Property records.
Bank statements.
Legal files.
He searched quickly.
Then found a box marked:
R.G. — PERSONAL
His initials.
He opened it.
Inside was a letter.
His father's handwriting.
Ricardo unfolded it.
The first sentence made his blood run cold.
If you are reading this, then someone has already tried to use your son against you.
Ricardo stopped.
He read the letter again.
Then faster.
His father explained that years earlier, he had discovered financial fraud inside Galván Holdings.
Someone had been moving money through shell companies.
Someone inside the family.
He had started an investigation.
Then he died before completing it.
But there was more.
The investigation had uncovered payments to a private security network.
A network that specialized in surveillance.
Coercion.
Blackmail.
And disappearances.
Ricardo's eyes moved down the page.
Then he saw a name.
Esteban Rivas.
Ricardo's jaw tightened.
But beneath Esteban's name was another.
A name that hit harder.
Valeria Galván.
Ricardo stared.
His father had been investigating both of them.
But why?
He opened another file.
It contained photographs from eleven years earlier.
Ricardo and Valeria.
At a charity event.
At a family dinner.
At their wedding.
Then one photograph stopped him.
Valeria was standing beside a man Ricardo had never seen before.
The date was eleven years earlier.
On the back was a handwritten note.
The child's father is not who Ricardo believes.
Ricardo's breathing stopped.
The child's father.
He stared at the photograph.
Then at the date.
Eleven years.
Before Diego was born.
His hands began shaking.
“No…”
He opened another document.
A DNA test.
The result was partially covered.
Only one line remained visible.
Probability of biological relationship: 99.98%.
Ricardo's heart pounded.
That was him.
It had to be.
He was Diego's father.
So why had someone written that sentence?
Then he noticed another page beneath it.
A second DNA test.
Different names.
Different result.
Ricardo read it.
His face went pale.
The report wasn't about him and Diego.
It was about Diego and—
Ricardo stopped.
The name had been blacked out.
Someone had deliberately removed it.
He grabbed his phone and photographed every page.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
STOP DIGGING.
Another.
YOU'RE GETTING CLOSE.
Then a photograph.
Ricardo opened it.
Diego.
Alive.
Sitting on a chair in a dark room.
His hands were free.
His face was pale.
But he was conscious.
Beside him stood Valeria.
She wasn't smiling.
She looked exhausted.
And behind her stood Esteban.
Ricardo stared at the image.
Then noticed something.
A window in the background.
Outside was a distinctive mountain range.
Ricardo recognized it immediately.
The old Galván estate outside the city.
A property his father had abandoned twenty years earlier.
Ricardo whispered:
“I know where you are.”
He grabbed his keys.
Then another message arrived.
COME ALONE.
Ricardo stopped.
A final line appeared.
AND BRING THE ORIGINAL DNA FILE.
His expression changed.
They weren't only holding Diego.
They wanted the DNA test.
Which meant the secret wasn't about money.
It was about blood.
Ricardo looked back at his father's portrait.
And suddenly remembered the doctor's words.
Someone has been trying very hard to make those injuries look accidental.
He had thought the injuries were meant to silence Diego.
Now he wondered whether they had another purpose.
To make Diego disappear before he could tell Ricardo the truth.
Ricardo took the original file.
Then walked toward the door.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Ricardo…”
He froze.
It was Diego.
“Daddy?”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“Diego!”
The boy's voice trembled.
“Daddy, don't come here.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Who is with you?”
Silence.
Then Diego whispered:
“Mom.”
Ricardo's heart tightened.
“And Esteban?”
Another silence.
Then the boy said something that made Ricardo stop cold.
“There is someone else.”
“Who?”
Diego began crying.
“The person Mom is afraid of.”
The line went dead.
Ricardo stood completely still.
Valeria was afraid.
Not of Ricardo.
Not of the police.
Not even of Esteban.
She was afraid of someone else.
Someone who had been hidden from him for years.
Ricardo looked at the DNA file in his hand.
Then toward the mountains beyond the mansion windows.
He finally understood.
The kidnapping was only the beginning.
May you like
The real secret had been buried inside the Galván family long before Diego was born.
And tonight, Ricardo was going to dig it up.
