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CHAPTER 2: THE HOUSE THAT REMEMBERED The old Vargas house stood abandoned at the edge of the city. Nobody had lived there for years. The windows were broken. The garden had become wild. The place looked exactly like Alejandro remembered. And that terrified him. Because memories he had buried started returning. The night of the accident. Mateo shouting. A briefcase full of documents. Jimena crying. And a sentence he could barely remember. “You don’t know who your wife really is.” Alejandro stepped inside. “Show yourself.” Silence answered. Then a light turned on upstairs. Slowly, Alejandro climbed the wooden stairs. Every step sounded louder than the last. At the end of the hallway was an old office. The door was already open. Inside, he found hundreds of documents. Bank records. Photographs. Medical reports. And a folder with his daughters’ names. His hands shook as he opened it. Inside were pictures taken over the last six months. His daughters eating alone. His daughters wearing old clothes. His daughters sitting in dark rooms. Every picture had a date. Every picture had one terrifying detail. Someone had been documenting their suffering. Then Alejandro found a letter. The handwriting was Mateo’s. Alejandro, If you are reading this, it means I failed to protect them. Jimena was never the woman you believed she was. She married you because of your fortune. But money was never enough. She wanted control. Alejandro stopped reading. His heart raced. The next line destroyed him. The girls are not the only ones she has been hiding from you. Suddenly, the office door closed behind him. A voice came from the darkness. “You finally came.” Alejandro turned. A man stepped forward. Older. Tired. But alive. Mateo Vargas. Alejandro’s hands tightened. “You’re dead.” Mateo looked at him sadly. “I wanted everyone to believe that.” “Why?” Mateo looked toward the folder. “Because the truth would have killed you.” / Chapter 1 / 5

CHAPTER 2: THE HOUSE THAT REMEMBERED

CHAPTER 2: THE HOUSE THAT REMEMBERED

The old Vargas house stood abandoned at the edge of the city.

Nobody had lived there for years.

The windows were broken.

The garden had become wild.

The place looked exactly like Alejandro remembered.

And that terrified him.

Because memories he had buried started returning.

The night of the accident.

Mateo shouting.

A briefcase full of documents.

Jimena crying.

And a sentence he could barely remember.

“You don’t know who your wife really is.”

Alejandro stepped inside.

“Show yourself.”

Silence answered.

Then a light turned on upstairs.

Slowly, Alejandro climbed the wooden stairs.

Every step sounded louder than the last.

At the end of the hallway was an old office.

The door was already open.

Inside, he found hundreds of documents.

Bank records.

Photographs.

Medical reports.

And a folder with his daughters’ names.

His hands shook as he opened it.

Inside were pictures taken over the last six months.

His daughters eating alone.

His daughters wearing old clothes.

His daughters sitting in dark rooms.

Every picture had a date.

Every picture had one terrifying detail.

Someone had been documenting their suffering.

Then Alejandro found a letter.

The handwriting was Mateo’s.

Alejandro,

If you are reading this, it means I failed to protect them.

Jimena was never the woman you believed she was.

She married you because of your fortune.

But money was never enough. She wanted control.

Alejandro stopped reading.

His heart raced.

The next line destroyed him.

The girls are not the only ones she has been hiding from you.

Suddenly, the office door closed behind him.

A voice came from the darkness.

“You finally came.”

Alejandro turned.

A man stepped forward.

Older.

Tired.

But alive.

Mateo Vargas.

Alejandro’s hands tightened.

“You’re dead.”

Mateo looked at him sadly.

“I wanted everyone to believe that.”

“Why?”

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Mateo looked toward the folder.

“Because the truth would have killed you.”

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