Chapter 2 - For several seconds, nobody moved.The forest remained frozen around them.

Ramon stared at Emma.

The child stared back.

“You said I'm your father.”

Emma nodded.

Ramon's voice became cold.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“Nobody.”

“Then where did you hear it?”

“From my mother.”

Ramon glanced toward the unconscious woman.

The name suddenly felt heavier.

He crouched beside Emma.

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

Ramon's expression tightened.

Six.

He did the math.

It didn't make sense.

He had been in prison six years ago.

Before that, his life had consisted of blood, business, enemies, and women he never allowed close enough to know him.

He had no daughter.

At least, that was what he had always believed.

His bodyguard approached.

“Boss, we need to move. Whoever attacked us might still be nearby.”

Ramon looked at the wounded woman.

“Take her.”

Two men lifted her carefully.

The convoy began moving.

But Ramon couldn't stop looking at Emma.

She sat beside him in the SUV, wrapped in a black coat.

The silver key remained in her hands.

“Where did you get that?”

“My mother gave it to me.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“What does it open?”

Emma looked toward him.

“A place under your house.”

Ramon went still.

“My house?”

She nodded.

“My mother told me never to go there unless you came for me.”

Ramon stared through the windshield.

Nobody outside his inner circle knew about the underground chamber beneath his mansion.

Not even most of his men.

The chamber had been built by his father.

Ramon had never understood why.

He had only ever used it to store old documents and weapons.

At least, that's what he thought.

The SUV arrived at Ortega Estate forty minutes later.

Security swarmed the driveway.

Ramon carried Emma inside.

The mansion was enormous.

Cold marble.

Dark wood.

Forty years of family history hanging on the walls.

Emma stared at one portrait.

She stopped.

Ramon followed her gaze.

His father.

Arturo Ortega.

Emma walked toward it.

“That man was here.”

Ramon frowned.

“My father died before you were born.”

“No.”

Emma pointed at the painting.

“He was alive.”

Ramon's stomach tightened.

“What are you talking about?”

“My mother met him.”

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Silence.

Ramon looked at his men.

“Everyone out.”

They obeyed.

Only Ramon, Emma, and the unconscious woman remained.

The mansion suddenly felt too large.

Too empty.

Ramon walked to his study.

He opened a concealed compartment.

Inside were old photographs.

He removed one.

A family photo from twenty-four years ago.

His father.

His mother.

His uncle.

And, standing behind them, the same woman from the clearing.

Ramon's fingers tightened around the photograph.

He had seen her before.

Not in person.

In his father's journals.

Her name had been written dozens of times.

Isabella Cruz.

A woman Arturo Ortega had allegedly ordered killed in 1998.

Ramon rushed back downstairs.

A doctor was working on her.

“Can she wake up?”

“Soon.”

Ramon waited.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty.

Finally, Isabella opened her eyes.

She looked directly at Ramon.

“You look like him.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

“Start talking.”

Isabella gave a weak smile.

“Still impatient.”

“How do you know me?”

“I changed your diapers.”

Ramon froze.

Isabella coughed.

“Your father trusted me more than anyone.”

“Why did he fake his death?”

“Because the Ortega family was already compromised.”

“By who?”

Isabella looked toward Emma.

“The organization that killed your mother.”

Ramon's face darkened.

“My mother died of cancer.”

“That was the story they gave you.”

Ramon stepped closer.

“Tell me the truth.”

Isabella stared at him.

“Your father didn't die.”

Ramon didn't breathe.

“He disappeared.”

“Where is he?”

“I don't know.”

“Then why did I hear his voice?”

Isabella's eyes widened.

“You heard him?”

Ramon nodded.

She whispered:

“Then he's already inside your house.”

The lights went out.

A second later, the entire mansion lost power.

Emergency alarms screamed.

Ramon drew his gun.

“Seal the building.”

His men rushed upstairs.

Emma grabbed Ramon's coat.

“Don't go.”

He looked down.

“Why?”

“They're here.”

Ramon's eyes shifted.

“How do you know?”

Emma pointed toward the hallway.

A shadow moved.

A gunshot cracked.

Ramon fired.

Someone screamed.

His guards stormed the corridor.

When the lights returned, a dead man lay beside the staircase.

Ramon searched his body.

Nothing.

Except a tattoo.

Three circles.

The same symbol carved into the oak.

Ramon stared at it.

Then his phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

A message appeared.

YOU HAVE 14 HOURS.

Another message arrived.

BRING THE GIRL TO THE OLD TRAIN STATION.

Then another.

COME ALONE.

Ramon's jaw tightened.

A fourth message appeared.

A photograph.

It showed his mansion from above.

Taken less than one minute earlier.

The camera angle changed.

The next photograph showed Emma.

Standing beside him.

The caption beneath it read:

WE CAN SEE YOU.

Ramon looked at the windows.

The entire estate was surrounded by armed guards.

But somewhere outside those walls, someone had been watching.

He turned toward Emma.

“What did your mother tell you before she sent you into the forest?”

Emma hesitated.

“She said…”

“What?”

“She said the man who comes to save me won't be the man I think he is.”

Ramon's eyes narrowed.

“What does that mean?”

Emma looked frightened.

“She said your father is not the only Ortega who is alive.”

At that exact moment, a voice came through the mansion's speaker system.

Calm.

Old.

Familiar.

“Ramon.”

Everyone froze.

The voice continued.

“You have until sunrise.”

Ramon looked toward the ceiling.

“Who are you?”

A pause.

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Then:

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