Chapter 3 - The Locked StudyAlejandro had avoided his father’s study for six years.
The room had become a mausoleum.
His father’s books remained exactly where they had been.
The heavy oak desk.
The brass lamp.
The framed photographs.
The old leather chair.
Even the faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the curtains.
Rafael stood behind him.
“I warned you not to open this room.”
Alejandro looked at him.
“You knew something was here.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Alejandro laughed bitterly.
“Everybody in this family is afraid.”
Rafael didn't answer.
Alejandro opened the desk.
Nothing.
He checked the drawers.
Empty.
Then he noticed the carpet.
One corner was slightly folded.
He pulled it back.
There was a small metal hatch beneath it.
Rafael went pale.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
Alejandro opened it.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
They stared at each other.
“Father had a basement?”
“No.”
Alejandro switched on his phone flashlight.
They went down.
The stairs led into a hidden room beneath the mansion.
The walls were covered with photographs.
Valeria.
Doña Esther.
Rafael.
Alejandro himself.
Doctors.
Business partners.
Drivers.
Maid staff.
Dates were written beneath each photograph.
Some were recent.
Others were years old.
Alejandro approached a wall covered with medical records.
He saw Valeria's name.
Then his mother's handwriting.
Then another name.
Mateo Silva.
He pulled one folder free.
Inside was a report from six years earlier.
His father's death.
The official diagnosis stated cardiac arrest.
But another document, handwritten, said:
Possible poisoning.
Alejandro's hands shook.
“Rafael.”
His brother stepped closer.
“Who wrote this?”
“My father.”
Alejandro stared.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
A second page contained a single sentence:
If I die unexpectedly, do not trust Esther.
Alejandro felt the world tilt.
His mother.
His father's final warning.
His own wife secretly poisoned.
A doctor disappearing.
A stolen diary.
Everything was connecting.
Then he found a photograph.
It showed his father standing beside a pregnant woman.
Valeria.
Alejandro froze.
“That can't be.”
The photograph was dated seven years earlier.
Before Alejandro married her.
Before they officially met.
Before the Aranda family knew her.
Rafael whispered:
“They knew her before you did.”
Alejandro turned.
“How?”
Rafael looked terrified.
“My father hired her.”
“For what?”
“To investigate your mother.”
Alejandro stared.
“My wife was investigating my mother?”
“No.”
Rafael swallowed.
“Your father asked her to.”
Suddenly, the lights went out.
A door slammed upstairs.
Rafael grabbed Alejandro’s arm.
Someone had locked them inside.
Alejandro rushed toward the stairs.
A metallic sound came from above.
Gas began filling the room.
Rafael coughed.
Alejandro covered his mouth.
“Find another exit!”
They searched desperately.
The walls.
The shelves.
The ceiling.
Nothing.
Then Alejandro noticed a small vent.
Cold air flowed through it.
He tore the cover away.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
They crawled inside.
Minutes later, they emerged into the mansion’s abandoned wine cellar.
Alejandro collapsed against the wall.
Rafael coughed violently.
“Someone tried to kill us.”
Alejandro looked at him.
“No.”
He stood slowly.
“Someone tried to kill us because we found the truth.”
Then he noticed something on the cellar floor.
A bloodstained wedding ring.
Valeria’s ring.
And beside it, a note.
Alejandro picked it up.
Three words were written in red ink:
SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
May you like
He ran upstairs.
Valeria was gone.
