CHAPTER 3 – Buried Beneath the Foundation
The evidence room inside the house had grown larger than the birthday party itself.
No one cared about the cake anymore.
No one remembered the balloons.
Every eye was fixed on the forensic technician as he loaded the remaining files from Rosa's memory card.
Eighty-three videos.
Dozens of audio recordings.
Hundreds of scanned documents.
Years of lies, preserved one file at a time.
The technician stopped at a folder labeled PRIVATE PROJECT.
He clicked.
Blueprints appeared on the screen.
At first glance, they looked ordinary—architectural plans for the Herrera residence.
Then Ernesto stepped closer.
"Zoom in."
The technician enlarged the basement layout.
A second room slowly emerged behind a false concrete wall.
It wasn't on the official construction permit.
One investigator frowned.
"That's not supposed to exist."
Julián's breathing became shallow.
"It's an old storage room."
"No," Ernesto replied quietly.
"The measurements don't match the plans filed with the city."
He turned toward the lead investigator.
"I believe there's a concealed space beneath this house."
The investigator immediately radioed the officers outside.
"Secure the basement."
Julián exploded.
"You can't tear apart my home!"
"Our home," Valeria corrected.
For the first time in years, her voice didn't shake.
"You always reminded me my name was on the title."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"You just forgot to mention the title itself was stolen."
Julián stared at her as though seeing a stranger.
Not the frightened woman he had controlled.
Not the wife who apologized after every argument.
This woman stood straight.
She didn't lower her eyes.
She didn't ask permission to speak.
Minutes later, the sound of heavy boots echoed from below.
An officer called upstairs.
"We found the wall."
Concrete dust drifted into the basement hallway as specialists examined the structure.
Fresh mortar.
Different paint.
Recently repaired.
The investigator ran his hand across the surface.
"Hollow."
A portable drill roared to life.
Three holes.
Then four.
Finally, the first section of concrete cracked.
The wall gave way.
Behind it sat a steel security door.
Locked.
Julián closed his eyes.
His silence said everything.
The locksmith worked quickly.
Within sixty seconds, the lock surrendered.
The steel door swung inward.
Cold air rolled into the basement.
Shelves lined every wall.
Boxes.
Hard drives.
Accounting ledgers.
Cash bundled with bank straps.
Luxury watches.
Jewelry.
Stacks of passports bearing different names.
One officer let out a low whistle.
"This isn't domestic violence anymore."
The financial crimes investigator stepped inside.
"Nobody touches anything."
The room was photographed from every angle.
Every shelf.
Every box.
Every document.
Then another discovery stopped everyone.
At the back of the hidden room stood a large fireproof cabinet.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Each carried a woman's name.
Valeria slowly approached.
She recognized one immediately.
Laura Mendoza.
Another.
Isabel Cruz.
Then another.
Patricia Ríos.
She looked at Ernesto.
"I know these women."
"They all disappeared from Julián's company."
The investigator opened the first file.
Employment contracts.
Bank information.
Medical reports.
Photographs.
Handwritten notes.
Each woman had been carefully documented.
Their salaries redirected.
Their signatures forged.
Their resignations fabricated.
Some had reported harassment.
Others had simply vanished from the company without explanation.
Ernesto's expression hardened.
"This was never about one victim."
"It was a system."
A criminal enterprise hidden behind a successful businessman and a respectable family name.
Just then, another officer climbed the basement stairs carrying a sealed envelope.
"Sir..."
"We found this taped beneath the cabinet."
Ernesto accepted it.
Across the front, written in fading black ink, were only six words.
If you're reading this, I'm gone.
The handwriting wasn't Valeria's.
It wasn't Ofelia's.
It belonged to someone else.
Someone who had known this room existed.
Someone who had expected the truth to be found one day.
Ernesto carefully unfolded the letter.
After reading only the first paragraph, the color left his face.
Valeria had never seen her father lose composure.
Until now.
He looked toward the investigators.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"We need to find this woman."
"Immediately."
The lead investigator frowned.
"Why?"
Ernesto slowly handed him the letter.
"Because according to this..."
"...she witnessed a murder."
Outside, birthday balloons drifted loose into the evening sky.
May you like
Inside the house...
The investigation had just become a homicide case.
