Chapter 2 - The hospital corridor became a battlefield without a single raised voice.Ricardo sat beside Diego's bed until dawn.
Every monitor beep felt like a countdown.
His son slept under medication administered by doctors, not by someone hiding bottles behind a bathroom cabinet.
That distinction haunted Ricardo.
At 4:17 in the morning, a pediatric specialist entered the room.
Dr. Elena Márquez.
She carried a thick folder.
Ricardo stood.
“Tell me everything.”
The doctor closed the door.
“I need you to understand something before I show you these results.”
Ricardo nodded.
“This did not happen in a few days.”
She placed several reports on the table.
“Your son appears to have experienced prolonged nutritional deprivation.”
Ricardo stared.
“He was hungry?”
“More than hungry.”
His throat tightened.
“How long?”
“We can't give an exact timeline yet, but we're looking at weeks, potentially months.”
Ricardo clenched his fists.
“How could a child live in that house and nobody notice?”
Dr. Márquez didn't answer immediately.
That silence was worse than words.
“There are also indications of medication exposure.”
“Slegit?”
“Repeated exposure is possible.”
“Repeated?”
“Yes.”
Ricardo looked toward Diego.
“What would that do to a seven-year-old?”
“Depending on the substance and dosage, sedation, confusion, weakness, behavioral changes.”
Ricardo remembered the video calls.
Diego never spoke more than a few sentences.
He always looked tired.
Always.
Ricardo had blamed school.
Jet lag.
Shyness.
Seven-year-old mood swings.
He hated himself for every excuse.
Dr. Márquez turned a page.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Bruising in several stages of healing.”
Ricardo stared at the photographs.
He didn't want to see them.
But he forced himself.
Old injuries.
New injuries.
Different ages.
Different patterns.
Someone had hurt his son over time.
Someone had covered it.
Someone had kept feeding the lie.
Ricardo lowered his voice.
“Could it have been another child?”
“No.”
“An accident?”
“Not based on what we're seeing.”
He swallowed.
“Then who?”
“That is not a medical question.”
Ricardo nodded.
He knew.
It was a police question.
A forensic question.
A question for the person who had been trusted enough to live in the house.
Valeria.
At 6:00 a.m., two investigators arrived.
One of them introduced herself as Inspector Lucía Herrera.
She listened to Ricardo's statement without interrupting.
Then she asked the question he had been avoiding.
“Who had unrestricted access to Diego?”
Ricardo looked at Valeria through the glass wall.
“His mother.”
“Who else?”
“Housekeeper. Driver. Security.”
“Any tutors?”
“Yes.”
“Doctors?”
“Pediatrician.”
“Family?”
“Not usually.”
Inspector Herrera wrote something down.
“Did Diego ever mention being afraid of anyone?”
Ricardo thought.
Then remembered the airport.
Don't let her…
His heart tightened.
“He tried.”
“What did he say?”
Ricardo repeated it.
The inspector looked up.
“Exactly?”
“Exactly.”
“Did he identify who ‘her’ was?”
“No.”
Before they could continue, a small sound came from the bed.
“Daddy?”
Ricardo rushed over.
Diego's eyes opened.
“I'm here.”
The boy looked around.
Then toward the door.
“Is Mom here?”
Ricardo hesitated.
“No.”
Diego exhaled.
His shoulders relaxed.
That tiny movement told Ricardo more than any report.
“Diego,” he said softly. “Did Mommy hurt you?”
The boy went still.
He stared at his father.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
“Did someone else?”
Silence.
“Diego, you can tell me.”
The boy's lips trembled.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“She said something would happen.”
“What?”
“She said you'd go away again.”
Ricardo felt something break inside him.
“She told you I'd leave?”
Diego nodded.
“And if I talked?”
The boy pulled the blanket toward his chin.
“She said Daddy likes winners.”
Ricardo frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Diego whispered:
“She said if I made trouble, you'd be ashamed of me.”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“Who?”
The boy didn't answer.
Then footsteps approached.
Valeria entered.
Diego immediately curled inward.
Ricardo saw it.
So did Inspector Herrera.
Valeria stopped.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She approached the bed.
Diego's breathing accelerated.
“Don't,” Ricardo said.
She looked offended.
“I'm his mother.”
“Stay there.”
Her expression changed.
A flash of anger.
Then the familiar smile returned.
“Ricardo, you're exhausted.”
“No. I'm awake.”
Inspector Herrera stepped closer.
“Mrs. Galván, we'd like to ask you some questions.”
“Of course.”
She sat down.
Her hands remained perfectly still.
Too still.
The inspector asked about Diego's meals.
Valeria answered smoothly.
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Snacks. Everything.”
“Who prepared them?”
“House staff.”
“Did you observe him eating?”
“Usually.”
“Usually?”
Valeria's smile tightened.
“I have a life.”
Ricardo looked at her.
“Apparently.”
The inspector continued.
“Who administered medication?”
Valeria frowned.
“He's had allergies.”
“What medication?”
“I'd need to check.”
The inspector placed the bottle from the evidence bag on the table.
“Would you like to check?”
Valeria stopped breathing for a second.
Then the room fell silent.
Finally she said:
“That bottle was not in my home.”
Ricardo looked at the inspector.
The inspector looked at Valeria.
Then came a knock.
A hospital technician entered carrying a laptop.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We found something during the review of the boy's medical records.”
“What?”
“The prescription linked to this bottle wasn't filled at the pharmacy listed by Mrs. Galván.”
Ricardo frowned.
“Then where?”
The technician turned the screen.
“It was purchased from a private clinic outside Mexico City.”
“Which clinic?”
He hesitated.
“Santa Lucía Behavioral Center.”
Valeria's face changed.
Ricardo noticed.
“You know that place.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
“I don't.”
But Inspector Herrera was already standing.
Because she had heard the same name before.
“Mr. Galván,” she said quietly, “that clinic was investigated two years ago for falsified treatment records.”
Ricardo stared.
“And Valeria used it?”
The inspector looked toward her.
“We need to know why.”
Before Valeria could respond, Diego whispered from the bed.
“Daddy…”
Ricardo turned.
The boy was staring at the medication bottle.
His face had gone pale.
“That medicine…”
He swallowed.
“They made me take it before the room.”
“What room?”
Diego shut his eyes.
May you like
Then whispered:
“The room with no windows.”
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