CHAPTER 5 — THE MAN IN THE SECURITY FOOTAGE
The old Galván estate sat beyond the northern hills like a forgotten grave.
Ricardo remembered the place.
Barely.
He had been a teenager the last time he'd seen it.
Back then, his father had called it a retreat.
A place where the family went when they wanted to disappear from the world.
Ricardo had always hated it.
The house was too isolated.
Too quiet.
Too far from everything.
Now, as his SUV climbed the winding road toward the estate, he understood why.
It was the perfect place to hide a child.
His phone sat in his hand.
The last call from Diego had ended less than ten minutes ago.
There is someone else.
Those words wouldn't leave him.
The person Valeria feared.
The person who had apparently been involved long before Ricardo knew anything was wrong.
Ricardo looked at the DNA file lying on the passenger seat.
The original.
The one they had demanded.
He hadn't told anyone about it.
Not the police.
Not the hospital.
Not Javier.
Not even Andrés.
Because he no longer knew whom he could trust.
Every person he had trusted seemed to have a connection to the conspiracy.
And if his father's old files were real, the corruption inside Galván Holdings had existed for years.
Maybe decades.
The road narrowed.
Trees closed around the vehicle.
Then Ricardo saw the estate.
A massive stone house appeared through the fog.
Its windows were dark.
No lights.
No movement.
Ricardo stopped the SUV about two hundred yards from the main gate.
He didn't drive closer.
Something felt wrong.
He turned off the engine.
Silence.
Then he noticed a light flickering inside the guardhouse.
Someone was there.
Ricardo reached beneath his jacket.
His fingers touched the small firearm he'd taken from his private security locker.
He wasn't looking for a fight.
He was looking for his son.
But he had learned something in the last twelve hours.
People willing to hurt a child didn't care about rules.
He stepped out of the vehicle.
The cold air hit his face.
He walked toward the gate.
It opened before he touched it.
Ricardo stopped.
The gate had been waiting for him.
He walked through.
The guardhouse door opened.
Nobody came out.
Inside was an old desk.
A radio.
A chair.
And a security monitor.
Ricardo approached the screen.
The estate's cameras were active.
He watched the live feed.
Front entrance.
Garage.
Garden.
Second-floor corridor.
Basement.
Then—
A camera showed Diego.
Ricardo's heart slammed against his ribs.
His son was sitting on a wooden chair.
Alive.
Alone.
His eyes were lowered.
Ricardo leaned toward the screen.
“Diego…”
Then another figure entered.
Valeria.
She knelt beside him.
Ricardo couldn't hear what she said.
But he saw Diego recoil.
The same reaction.
Fear.
Valeria touched his shoulder.
The boy pulled away.
Ricardo's fists tightened.
Then another man entered the frame.
Esteban.
He placed a hand on Valeria's shoulder.
She immediately stood.
They spoke.
Ricardo couldn't hear them.
But their body language told him everything.
Valeria was nervous.
Esteban was not.
He looked calm.
Almost amused.
Then Esteban turned toward the camera.
Directly toward it.
And smiled.
Ricardo stepped backward.
He knew.
Esteban knew he was watching.
The screen suddenly went black.
Then another camera appeared.
A hallway.
Empty.
Then another.
The basement.
Empty.
Then—
A third man entered the frame.
Ricardo stopped breathing.
He had never seen the man's face clearly.
But he recognized the walk.
The posture.
The gray hair.
The slight limp.
His father had had that same limp.
Ricardo stared.
“No…”
The man stopped in front of Diego's door.
He looked directly at the camera.
Then removed his hat.
Ricardo's blood turned cold.
The face was not his father's.
But it was familiar.
Very familiar.
Ricardo searched his memory.
Then it came to him.
A photograph.
The picture from the archive.
Valeria standing beside a man.
Eleven years earlier.
The same man.
Ricardo's eyes widened.
He looked at the photograph again.
The name written on the back suddenly made sense.
He whispered:
“Mateo.”
Mateo Serrano.
His father's former legal adviser.
A man Ricardo had been told died in a car accident fifteen years earlier.
Except—
He was alive.
And he was standing inside the estate where Ricardo's son was being held.
Ricardo's phone vibrated.
A message.
YOU REMEMBER HIM NOW.
Ricardo stared.
Another message appeared.
COME INSIDE.
Then:
ALONE.
Ricardo looked toward the mansion.
He could go in.
Or he could call the police.
Every instinct told him to call them.
But then the screen changed.
Diego appeared again.
This time he was crying.
A voice came through the security speaker.
“Daddy?”
Ricardo's heart broke.
“Diego!”
The boy looked toward the camera.
“I'm okay.”
Ricardo knew immediately.
That wasn't Diego speaking freely.
Someone was standing beside the camera.
Controlling him.
“Diego, listen to me.”
The boy's eyes moved slightly.
A tiny movement.
Almost invisible.
But Ricardo knew his son.
Diego was looking at something behind the camera.
Something he wanted Ricardo to see.
Ricardo followed his gaze.
The camera angle shifted.
For half a second, a wall appeared behind Diego.
There was a painting.
A large oil portrait.
Ricardo recognized it.
His father's portrait.
But something was wrong.
The portrait had been moved.
Behind it was a safe.
Ricardo remembered his father's old office.
The hidden archive.
The same symbol was engraved on the safe.
A Galván family crest.
Then Diego whispered:
“Daddy…”
“Yes?”
“Remember the stars.”
Ricardo froze.
The phrase.
The same phrase he'd used to unlock the USB drive.
Stars don't disappear.
The screen went black.
Ricardo stepped away.
He understood.
Diego wasn't giving him comfort.
He was giving him a clue.
The child had seen something.
Something inside the estate.
Something connected to the family.
Ricardo looked at the mansion.
Then his phone vibrated again.
This time it wasn't a message.
It was a photograph.
A close-up of the safe behind the portrait.
And beneath it:
THE TRUTH IS INSIDE.
Ricardo moved toward the house.
He reached the front door.
It opened.
No one stood behind it.
The interior was dark.
He entered.
The door closed behind him.
Then every light in the mansion switched on at once.
Ricardo stopped.
At the end of the hall stood Valeria.
Alone.
Her face was pale.
“Where is my son?”
She stared at him.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“You knew I'd come.”
“Yes.”
“Where is Diego?”
“He's upstairs.”
“Take me to him.”
Valeria didn't move.
“Ricardo…”
“What?”
“You don't understand what you're walking into.”
“I understand enough.”
“You think I'm the enemy.”
“You drugged my son.”
“I was trying to keep him alive.”
Ricardo stared at her.
“Alive from whom?”
Valeria's eyes filled with tears.
Before she could answer, a man's voice came from the balcony above them.
“You're wasting your time, Valeria.”
Ricardo looked up.
Esteban stood there.
And beside him—
Mateo Serrano.
Ricardo's blood ran cold.
Mateo smiled.
“Welcome home, Ricardo.”
Ricardo's hand moved toward his jacket.
Mateo raised one hand.
“Don't.”
Two armed men appeared behind Ricardo.
The doors locked.
Esteban smiled.
“You came alone.”
Ricardo looked at him.
“No.”
He held up the DNA file.
“I came with the truth.”
Mateo's smile disappeared.
And for the first time, Ricardo saw fear in the old man's eyes.
Not fear of the police.
Not fear of Ricardo.
Fear of what was inside that file.
Ricardo understood.
The DNA test wasn't merely evidence.
May you like
It was a weapon.
And they were terrified of it.
