Chapter 3 - The Call from the Past
The cold night air of San Pedro Garza García hit us like a physical blow as I carried Valentina out of the mansion. The fountains still bubbled, the artificial lights still cast a cheerful glow over the manicured hedges, but to me, the entire place looked like a graveyard. Valentina was still sobbing softly against my chest, her little body trembling with every breath, clutching her stuffed reindeer as if it were her only anchor in a terrifying world.
I buckled her into her car seat in the back of my old, battered sedan, whispering soothing promises that Mommy was here, that we were safe, and that we were never, ever coming back to that horrible place.
Once she was secure, I climbed into the driver's seat, locked the doors, and finally let out the breath I had been holding. My hands shook so violently on the steering wheel that I could barely insert the key into the ignition. My cheek still burned with vicarious pain; my heart felt like it had been crushed under my father's leather shoe.
As I pulled away from the curb, driving past the high iron gates that marked the boundary of the Andrade estate, my phone started vibrating again. It had hasn't stopped buzzing since we walked out the door.
I glanced at the dashboard screen. The caller ID didn't show a name. It was a private number, coming from a region code I didn't recognize—not Monterrey, not even Mexico.
Normally, I would have ignored it. Tonight, surrounded by the wreckage of my family and the suffocating weight of my own grief, my instincts flared. With a trembling finger, I hit the speakerphone button and answered.
"Hello?" My voice was raspy, thick with unhedged tears.
For a few seconds, there was only static and the heavy sound of someone breathing on the other end. I almost hung up, thinking it was a telemarketer or a cruel prank by one of my father's wealthy associates.
Then, a voice spoke. It was an older woman's voice, raspy, deeply tired, but carrying an unmistakable tone of fierce urgency.
"Sofia Andrade?"
I froze. The name sounded strange coming from a stranger who wasn't spitting it out like an insult.
"Yes," I answered cautiously, keeping my eyes on the dark road ahead. "Who is this?"
"My name is Carmen," the voice said. "Carmen Morales. I used to be the head housekeeper at the Andrade family estate in Saltillo, back before your parents moved to Monterrey, before your father built his fortune on graves and silence. I’ve spent thirty years looking for a way to reach you."
A cold chill ran down my spine, overriding the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Saltillo. My parents never talked about Saltillo. Whenever I asked about our family history before the mansion, before the luxury, before the business empire, my father would shut me down with a glare so fierce it could end a conversation permanently. I knew only vague rumors—that my father had started small, that there had been a fire, that an older brother I never knew existed had died when I was a baby.
"How do you know my name?" I demanded, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "What do you want?"
"I want the truth, Sofia," Carmen replied, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. "And more importantly, you deserve it. What happened tonight? Did your father still think he's a king who can strike whoever he wants without consequence?"
I swallowed hard, the memory of the slap flashing behind my eyelids. "He hit my three-year-old daughter. Because she got in his way. And my sister... my sister clapped."
On the other line, Carmen let out a sharp, bitter laugh that sounded like dry leaves scraping across pavement. "Classic Renata. Cruel just like her mother, arrogant just like her father. They think their hands are clean because they wear expensive clothes and hide behind lawyers. But the Andrade empire isn't built on business acumen, Sofia. It’s built on theft, betrayal, and a body they buried in the dark thirty-five years ago."
I pulled the car over to the side of a quiet, dimly lit residential street, putting it in park. My breath caught in my throat.
"What are you talking about?" I whispered, my heart pounding against my ribs. "What body?"
"Listen to me very carefully, Sofia," Carmen said, her tone turning ironclad. "Your father didn't build his wealth from scratch. The original fortune, the land, the capital that launched Andrade Enterprises... it didn't belong to him. It belonged to your mother’s first family. To the man she was forced to leave behind, and the brother your father pushed off a cliff so he could inherit everything."
The silence in the car became absolute. Behind me in the back seat, Valentina had finally quieted down, her soft breathing the only sound in the night.
"My... my grandfather?" I stammered, my mind struggling to process the sheer weight of her words.
May you like
"No," Carmen said clearly. "Your uncle. And your real grandfather. Your father stole a whole identity, Sofia. And tonight, after what I saw him do to that innocent little girl, I decided I’m done keeping their secret. Turn your car around. Go to the old notary office on Juarez Street. There's a man waiting for you there with a locked box. Inside is the truth that will tear the Andrades down to the ground."
The call abruptly disconnected, leaving a hollow dial tone humming in the empty car. I sat in the darkness, staring at the glowing screen of my phone, my entire world tilting off its axis.
