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Chapter 2: The Missing Will Santiago returned from Singapore two days later. The mansion immediately transformed. Fresh flowers filled every room. Expensive wine appeared on the dining table. Camila welcomed her husband with warm kisses and affectionate smiles. "You've worked too hard," she told him. "You should spend tonight with your mother." Santiago smiled gratefully. "I will." But when he reached Doña Consuelo's room, Camila gently stopped him. "The doctor increased her medication." "She's sleeping." "It would only confuse her." He accepted the explanation without hesitation. From the hallway, Mariana watched disbelief spread through her chest. He was only a few steps away. Yet he never saw his own mother. That evening Mariana entered the library to dust the shelves. Behind several legal binders, she noticed an unlocked safe. Inside lay dozens of financial documents. One folder caught her attention. LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT The pages had fresh signatures. Fresh dates. Fresh ink. But Doña Consuelo could barely hold a spoon. She certainly couldn't have signed legal papers. Mariana quickly photographed every page before replacing them exactly as she found them. As she closed the safe... A voice spoke behind her. "Looking for something?" Camila. Standing perfectly still. Smiling. Mariana's heartbeat nearly stopped. "I was cleaning." Camila slowly walked closer. Close enough to straighten Mariana's apron. Then she whispered into her ear. "Curiosity destroys good employees." / Chapter 3 / 5

Chapter 4: The Secret Basement

Chapter 4: The Secret Basement

Sleep became impossible.

Before sunrise, Mariana followed an old floor plan she had secretly photographed from the library.

According to the blueprint, a storage room beneath the mansion no longer officially existed.

Yet a hidden staircase remained.

She unlocked the rusted door.

Cold air drifted upward.

The basement was filled with dusty furniture and forgotten boxes.

Then she found shelves packed with medical records.

Every diagnosis had been altered.

Every prescription rewritten.

Every hospital recommendation ignored.

One locked cabinet remained.

She forced it open.

Inside sat dozens of unopened letters.

All addressed to Doña Consuelo.

Some were nearly five years old.

Family members had never stopped writing.

She had simply never received their words.

At the bottom of the cabinet rested a leather notebook.

Camila's handwriting covered every page.

Meals skipped.

Medication reduced.

Visitors denied.

Body weight tracked weekly.

It wasn't neglect.

It was a carefully documented plan.

Suddenly the basement lights went out.

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Footsteps echoed in complete darkness.

Someone had locked the door.

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