FIVE YEARS EARLIER — THE NIGHT
The Fuentes house had been silent.
Sara put three-year-old Salomé to bed early. The little girl hugged her teddy bear, unaware of what was coming.
Ramiro sat in the living room, drinking his fourth glass of whiskey.
He had lost his job that week.
Twenty years at the carpentry shop — gone overnight.
Sara’s voice echoed from the kitchen, tense and furious.
“I told you not to contact me again. What you did is unforgivable. If you don’t fix this, I’m going to talk.”
Ramiro stepped into the doorway.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Nobody. Go to sleep. You’ve had enough.”
He wanted to argue.
But alcohol won.
He collapsed onto the couch.
And slept.
What happened next, he would not remember.
But someone would.
Salomé woke to the sound of a door.
She stepped into the hallway.
From the shadows, she saw a figure enter the house.
A man she knew.
A man who wore blue shirts.
A man who brought her sweets.
Sara screamed.
Then silence.
Salomé hid in the closet as the man in blue walked toward her sleeping father.
THE CRACKS IN THE CASE
Dolores spent the night reviewing hundreds of pages.
Everything pointed to Ramiro.
But small cracks appeared.
The neighbor, Pedro Sánchez, first described seeing “a man” leaving the house.
Three days later, he specified: Ramiro.
Why the change?
The forensic results returned in record time — seventy-two hours — unusually fast.
The prosecutor?
Aurelio Sánchez.
Same surname as the neighbor.
Coincidence?
Dolores dug deeper.
Aurelio was no longer a prosecutor.
He had been promoted to judge three years after the conviction.
His career skyrocketed after “efficiently solving” the case.
But there was more.
Aurelio had business ties to Gonzalo Fuentes.
Together they had purchased multiple properties over five years.
Properties that once belonged to the Fuentes family.
Dolores called Carlos.
“I want everything on Gonzalo’s finances. Every transaction.”
“And find out what Sara Fuentes discovered before she died.”
THE UNCLE
Gonzalo Fuentes arrived at Santa María in a luxury black car.
Perfect suit.
Blue tie.
Always blue.
Carmela felt a chill.
“I’m here for my niece,” Gonzalo said smoothly.
“She’s under state protection,” Carmela replied.
He stepped closer.
“She needs family. Not charity.”
“She needed protection when she arrived with bruises.”
His eyes darkened.
“Be careful what you imply.”
He smiled — but it did not reach his eyes.
“I have connections. I can shut this place down.”
Behind the office door, Salomé stood trembling.
Her eyes locked on her uncle.
Pure terror.
For a split second, Gonzalo’s mask slipped.
Carmela saw it.
Danger.
“Leave,” she ordered.
He smiled coldly.
“This isn’t over.”
THE NAME IN THE NIGHT
Later, Carmela called Dolores.
“There’s something else.”
Salomé screamed a name every night.
Not her father.
Not her mother.
“Martín.”
Martín Reyes.
The gardener.
He worked for the Fuentes family for three years.
He disappeared a week after Sara died.
No investigation.
No follow-up.
His mother filed a missing person report.
Closed.
Dolores felt the weight of it.
A child witness.
A missing gardener.
A forged will.
A corrupt prosecutor.
This was no longer a single crime.
This was a web.
And someone had spent five years making sure it stayed buried.
“I need Martín’s mother’s address,” Dolores said. “I already have it.” Carmela handed her a piece of paper.
“But be careful, ma’am. Whoever made that man disappear can make you disappear too.”
Dolores put the paper in her pocket. “At my age, Carmela, I’m no longer afraid of disappearing. I’m afraid of disappearing without having done justice.”
Five years earlier, two weeks before the tragedy, Gonzalo Fuentes’ office was on the tenth floor of a glass building in the financial center.
Sara entered unannounced with a manila folder in her hands and fire in her eyes.
“What does this mean?” she asked, throwing the documents onto Gonzalo’s desk. He looked at them without flinching. “Sara, what a surprise!”
Shouldn’t you be taking care of my niece? Don’t change the subject. I found your parents’ original will, the real one.
Ramiro was entitled to half of those lands. You forged them. Gonzalo stood up slowly, closing his office door.
Be careful with your accusations, sister-in-law. They’re very serious words. They’re not accusations, they’re facts. I hired an expert. The signature on the will you presented is forged.
The lines don’t match. I’m going to report you, Gonzalo.
I’m going to make sure Ramiro gets back what you stole from him. Gonzalo walked toward her with calculated calm. And you think anyone’s going to believe you? My partner Aurelio is a prosecutor.
My connections reach all the way to the governor. Your word against mine is worthless. I have proof. Proof can disappear, and so can people.
Sara felt the weight of the threat, but she didn’t back down. You have one week to return what you stole. If you don’t, I’m going to the police.
