Chapter 3 - By sunrise, the mansion had become a crime scene.Police entered through the front gate.
Forensic teams photographed everything.
Every bathroom.
Every bedroom.
Every cabinet.
Every medicine drawer.
Every lock.
Valeria stood in the marble foyer, furious.
“You don't have permission to tear apart my house.”
Inspector Herrera calmly presented the warrant.
“We do now.”
Ricardo said nothing.
He watched them search.
This was the house he had bought.
The house where Diego had taken his first steps.
The house where Christmas trees once covered the living room.
And now investigators were examining walls for hidden compartments.
At 9:40, a forensic officer called Ricardo upstairs.
“We found something.”
He followed.
The officer stood beside Diego's old bedroom.
A section of the wardrobe had been moved.
Behind it was a narrow door.
Ricardo stared.
“I never knew that was there.”
Valeria appeared behind him.
“It's storage.”
Inspector Herrera looked at her.
“Why is it locked?”
Valeria didn't answer.
The officer opened it.
Inside was almost nothing.
A chair.
A small table.
A camera mounted high in one corner.
And a shelf.
On the shelf were children's books.
Neatly arranged.
Unused.
Ricardo's stomach turned.
“What is this?”
No one answered.
The forensic officer pointed to the table.
“There's medication residue.”
Inspector Herrera stared at the camera.
“Check whether it works.”
A technician connected a portable device.
The screen flickered.
Then showed video footage.
Ricardo expected Diego.
He expected some evidence of abuse.
Instead, he saw himself.
Three months earlier.
The day he had left for Spain.
The video showed Ricardo hugging Diego near the front door.
Then kissing his forehead.
“Be good, champ,” he had said.
The footage continued.
After Ricardo left, the camera remained on.
Valeria entered the room.
She looked at Diego.
Her smile disappeared.
And she said:
“Now we start.”
Ricardo stopped breathing.
The footage showed Diego backing away.
Valeria closed the door.
The screen cut to black.
Inspector Herrera immediately ordered the technician to preserve the recording.
Ricardo's hands shook.
“She recorded him.”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
“We don't know yet.”
The footage continued.
Hours later, another person appeared.
A woman.
Middle-aged.
Short hair.
Professional clothing.
She entered carrying a medical bag.
Ricardo didn't recognize her.
Valeria spoke to her quietly.
Then something unexpected happened.
The woman looked frightened.
She said:
“No. I told you I wouldn't do this anymore.”
Valeria leaned closer.
“You already did.”
The woman looked toward the camera.
For one second, her eyes met the lens.
Then she whispered:
“This is a child.”
Valeria replied:
“And this child belongs to me.”
The recording ended.
Ricardo stared at the screen.
“Who is she?”
Inspector Herrera didn't know.
But they had the answer an hour later.
A facial recognition system matched the woman to Dr. Sofía Núñez, a former pediatric resident whose medical license had been temporarily suspended.
Ricardo felt sick.
“What was she doing here?”
Inspector Herrera looked at the screen.
“That is what we're going to ask.”
Meanwhile, detectives searched the rest of the house.
At noon, someone found a locked safe in Valeria's bedroom.
Inside were passports.
Bank cards.
Several envelopes.
And a notebook.
Ricardo opened it.
The first page contained numbers.
Dates.
Times.
Amounts.
At first it looked like accounting.
Then he noticed a repeated entry.
D.
Dose.
Sleep.
Food.
Reaction.
His vision blurred.
This wasn't a diary.
It was a record.
A record of Diego.
Inspector Herrera took the notebook.
“Don't touch anything else.”
Ricardo pointed at a final page.
There were three words written in red ink.
PROJECT LITTLE KING.
Underneath:
FINAL PHASE: SEPTEMBER 14.
Ricardo's heart stopped.
“What's September 14?”
The inspector checked the date.
“Four days from now.”
Ricardo looked at her.
“What final phase?”
“We don't know yet.”
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Mr. Galván?”
“Yes.”
“Listen carefully. Do not trust your ex-wife.”
Ricardo froze.
“Who is this?”
“She knows you're investigating.”
“Who are you?”
“I treated your son.”
Ricardo glanced at Inspector Herrera.
“Dr. Núñez?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because they know where I live.”
Ricardo's blood ran cold.
“Who?”
The woman whispered:
“Everyone who helped build your perfect family.”
Then the call ended.
Inspector Herrera watched him.
“What did she say?”
Ricardo looked toward the bedroom.
And for the first time, he understood.
The woman who had been hurting his son might not be the only person responsible.
Maybe Valeria had simply been following someone else's instructions.
A second later, a forensic technician shouted from downstairs.
“Inspector!”
They ran.
A hidden compartment had been discovered beneath the dining room floor.
Inside was a hard drive.
And a single photograph.
Ricardo picked up the photograph.
It showed Diego standing beside a smiling businessman.
Ricardo knew the man.
Everyone in Mexico's technology world knew him.
Gabriel Santoro.
Ricardo's former business partner.
The man Ricardo had fired five years ago.
The man who had once sworn:
“You'll regret destroying me.”
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On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
HE WAS NEVER YOUR SON.
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