Dolores needed to see to believe. Where is Sara now? Nearby, but I can’t tell you where over the phone. We don’t know who might be listening. I need her to come to my mother’s house in San Jerónimo tomorrow. I’ll explain everything there. Time is running out, Martín. There are less than 30 hours left. I know, that’s why I decided to speak. Sara wanted to wait until she had all the legal evidence, but there’s no time left. If Ramiro dies, Gonzalo wins for good. And Sara has sacrificed too much to allow that.
Dolores hung up the phone, her hands trembling. If this was true, it was the most extraordinary case of her career. A woman who faked her death to protect her daughter. An innocent husband convicted of a crime that never happened. A brother willing to destroy everything out of greed. She packed a small suitcase. Tomorrow she would travel to San Jerónimo. Tomorrow she would learn the whole truth. What she didn’t know was that someone had intercepted the call. In his cell, Ramiro Fuentes slept for the first time in years without nightmares.
His daughter’s words had ignited something within him—hope. But that night, sleep brought back memories he had blocked for five hundred years. He saw himself on the sofa in his house, drunk, on the verge of passing out. He heard voices: Sara’s voice, first calm, then frightened, and another voice, a voice he knew well. « You shouldn’t have gotten involved in this, Sara. I warned you, » said Gonzalo. Ramiro tried to move in his sleep. He tried to get up to defend his wife, but his body wouldn’t respond.
The alcohol had paralyzed him. He heard a bang, a scream, silence. Then footsteps approaching, a hand placing something in his, the cold of metal. When you wake up, this will be over, and you’ll be the perfect scapegoat, brother. Ramiro woke up drenched in sweat, screaming. The guards rushed to his cell, thinking he was trying to hurt himself, but Ramiro just kept repeating the same phrase. Now I remember. Now I remember everything. My brother was my brother. I heard his voice. He put the gun in my hands while I slept.
The younger guard looked at his partner. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” The veteran shook his head. “Everyone tells the truth when the end is near, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” It mattered more than he imagined. At the Santa María home, Carmela watched Salomé with concern. Since she had stopped speaking, the girl communicated only through drawings. She drew obsessively, filling page after page with the same image. Carmela gave her a new box of crayons.
« Can you show me what you see in your dreams, little one? » Salomé took the crayons and began to draw. This time the drawing was different, more detailed, as if five years of maturity allowed her to express what she couldn’t before. She drew the house, the living room, a figure on the floor, another standing in a blue shirt, but she added something new: a half-open door in the background and behind it another small figure, a girl with yellow hair, herself observing everything. And in the corner of the drawing, something Carmela didn’t expect: a hand sticking out of the house’s window, as if someone were helping the figure on the floor escape.
« What is this, Salomé? » Carmela asked, pointing at the hand. The girl wrote a single word beneath the drawing: Mom. Carmela felt the air leave her lungs. « Your mom escaped. Your mom is alive. » Salomé looked at her with those enormous eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world. She nodded slowly. Then she wrote another word hidden away, and one last one: waiting. Gonzalo Fuentes arrived at the Santa María home two hours later, accompanied by two men in dark suits. He carried documents that supposedly returned temporary custody of Salomé to him.
« Order from the Third Family Court, » he announced, handing the papers to Carmela. « Signed by Judge Aurelio Sánchez. I’ve come to take my niece. » Carmela examined the documents. They seemed legitimate, but something inside her screamed at her not to hand over the girl. « I need to verify this with the appropriate authorities, » she said. « I can’t release a minor without confirmation. The confirmation is in these papers, ma’am. Don’t waste my time. It’s not a matter of time, it’s a matter of protocol. »
Gonzalo took a step forward, invading Carmela’s space. « Listen to me carefully, that girl is my own flesh and blood. Her father is going to be executed tomorrow. She needs a family, not a charity home full of orphans. What that girl needs is protection, not more violence. » « Violence is accusing me of something. » Carmela looked him straight in the eyes. « The bruises Salomé arrived with six months ago accuse me more strongly than any words I could ever say. » Gonzalo’s face hardened.
I can get this place shut down. I can get your license revoked. I can make sure you never work with children again. I just need one phone call. What Gonzalo didn’t know was that Carmela had activated the security recording system the moment she saw him arrive. Every word, every threat was recorded. « Leave, Mr. Fuentes. I’m not handing that girl over to you, and if you threaten me again, I’ll use everything I have to destroy you. » Gonzalo smiled coldly. « I’ll be back, and when I do, I won’t be so nice. »
Three hours later, Gonzalo returned. This time he didn’t knock. His men broke down the door. Carmela was prepared. She had called the police after the first visit, but they still hadn’t arrived. When she heard the door break down, she took Salomé by the hand and led her to the safe room she had prepared for emergencies. « Stay here, little one, no matter what happens. Don’t come out until I come for you. » Salomé nodded, her eyes filled with terror. Carmela went out to confront Gonzalo.
The two men held her down while he searched every room for the girl. “Where is she?” Gonzalo shouted. “Where did you hide her?” “Far from you, where you’ll never find her.” Gonzalo approached Carmela and grabbed her by the neck. “I’m going to ask you just one more time. Where is Salomé?” “Go to hell.” At that moment, police sirens filled the air. Someone had seen the men break down the door and had called 911. The officers stormed in with their guns drawn.
« Everyone on the ground. » Gonzalo released Carmela, trying to regain his composure. « Officer, this is a misunderstanding. I only came to see my niece. » « We have a recording of your previous visit, » the officer said. « Threats, attempted abduction, minor trespass. You have the right to remain silent. » As they handcuffed Gonzalo, Carmela smiled. The security footage had captured everything. Both visits, the threats, the violence. Gonzalo Fuentes had just destroyed his own freedom. News of Gonzalo’s arrest reached Judge Aurelio Sánchez in less than an hour.
His network of informants was efficient. “He’s an idiot,” he muttered as he dialed a number on his private phone. “I told him to be discreet. I told him to be patient.” The voice on the other end answered calmly. “What do we do now? Gonzalo is going to talk. As soon as they pressure him, he’ll negotiate. He’s a coward. He always has been. He can frame you. He knows too much. We have to activate plan B.” Aurelio walked to his safe and opened it. Inside were dozens of storage devices, videos, recordings, documents he had collected over decades, his life insurance policy, evidence of corruption involving politicians, businessmen, and judges.
If he went down, many would go down with him. “I’m going to make some calls,” Gonzalo said. He won’t spend a single night in prison, but there’s another problem. The lawyer is worse, and the gardener, Martín Reyes, is also involved. We intercepted a call last night. He’s alive and in contact with Dolores Medina. Where is she? San Jerónimo, at her mother’s house. The lawyer is going there today. Do you want us to intercept them? Aurelio thought about it for a moment. No, let her get there, let them meet, and when we have them all together, we’ll solve all the problems at once.
It was a clean, efficient plan. But Aurelio had underestimated his enemies, and that would cost him everything. Dolores arrived in San Jerónimo at noon. The journey had been long, and her body protested with aches and pains she preferred to ignore. Her doctor had warned her that the stress could kill her, but dying while seeking justice was preferable to living without ever having found it. Consuelo Reyes’s house was the same as before, but this time the old woman was waiting for her at the door with a nervous expression.
“My son is inside,” she whispered. “But he’s not the only one. There’s someone else who wants to see her.” Dolores went inside. In the small living room, Martín Reyes sat in an old chair. He was a thin man in his forties, with an unkempt beard and eyes that had seen too much. “Mrs. Medina,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for coming. Martín has a lot to explain, starting with how Sara Fuentes is even alive.” Martín glanced toward the back door. “I don’t have to explain.”
She can do better than I can. The door opened. A woman appeared in the doorway. She was thin, gaunt, with short hair and white streaks she hadn’t had before. But her eyes were unmistakable, the same eyes Dolores had seen in the photographs on the file. Sara Fuentes was alive. “Mrs. Medina,” Sara said hoarsely. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for five years. Five years in hiding, watching my husband rot in prison for something he didn’t do. Five years separated from my daughter to protect her.”
I can’t wait any longer. Dolores slumped into a chair. Her legs wouldn’t support her. Why? Why so long? Why didn’t she speak up sooner? Because she didn’t have enough proof. But now she does, and there are less than 24 hours left to save Ramiro. Sara sat across from Dolores and began to speak. Her voice trembled, but her words were firm. The night Gonzalo attacked me, I confronted my husband. I told him his brother had forged his parents’ will.
Ramiro didn’t believe me. We argued. He drank himself to death on the sofa. What happened next? Gonzalo arrived an hour later. He had a key to the house. Ramiro never took it from him. He found me in the kitchen. I tried to reason with him, but he was furious. He hit me. I fell. Everything went dark. How did you survive? Sara looked at Martín, who continued the story. I had returned to the house that night. I forgot my gardening tools. I saw Gonzalo’s car outside, and something seemed off.
I went in through the back door and found Sara on the floor. She was still breathing. Gonzalo was in the living room putting the gun in Ramiro’s hands while he was asleep. He didn’t see it. He was too engrossed in his thoughts. I got Sara out through the kitchen window. I took her to my mother’s house. That same night I drove for four hours straight. When we arrived, she woke up. Sara spoke again. Martín saved my life, but when I heard Ramiro had been arrested, I wanted to go back immediately.
Martín stopped me. Why? Because Gonzalo had contacts in the police, in the prosecutor’s office. If I had turned up alive, they would have eliminated me for good. Salomé too. Gonzalo had seen her that night hiding in the hallway. He knew I was a witness. If I spoke, my daughter would pay the price. Dolores understood this woman’s terrible sacrifice. She let her husband be convicted to protect her daughter. Every day of these five years has been hell, Mrs. Medina, but today it ends.
I have proof, and we’re going to use it. Sara pulled an old phone from her pocket, one of those old models that hardly anyone used anymore. « The night of the attack, I was recording, » she explained. « I had started documenting everything: Gonzalo’s threats, his calls, his visits. I was afraid something would happen to me, and I wanted to leave evidence. » What exactly did she record? Sara pressed play. The recording was audio, not video, but it was clear. Gonzalo’s voice filled the room. « Did you think you could threaten me, Sara? »
Did you think you could destroy everything I’ve built? Aurelio told me to give you one last chance, but you chose the difficult path. Sara’s voice was frightened but firm. Gonzalo, please, think of Ramiro. He’s your brother. Ramiro is a loser. He always was. He shouldn’t have inherited anything. Everything was for me. For me. And you’re not going to ruin it. Then a bang, a scream, and the recording ended. Dolores felt her heart pounding in her ears. This is a confession.
And she mentions Aurelio. There’s more, Sara said. The phone kept recording after I lost consciousness. It captured Gonzalo calling Aurelio. She pressed play again. It’s done, but there’s a problem. The little girl saw everything. She was hiding in the hallway. Aurelio’s voice. Take care of the husband as planned. I’ll take care of the girl. One word from him and she’s an orphan. Dolores had the proof she needed. Gonzalo and Aurelio, condemned by their own voices.
Why did I wait five years to use this? Because I needed Salomé to be safe. And because I needed someone to believe me. Someone with the power to take this to court. Someone like you at the Santa María home. Salomé drew, but this time they weren’t scenes of terror. She drew a small house, a bright sun, and three figures holding hands: a man, a woman, and a little girl. Carmela watched her from the doorway. After everything that had happened, after Gonzalo’s attempt to take her away, the girl seemed calmer, as if she knew something was changing.
“Can I sit with you?” Carmela asked. Salomé nodded. Carmela looked at the drawing. “Is that your family?” Salomé nodded again. You miss them. The little girl stopped drawing. She looked at Carmela with those enormous eyes that seemed to see beyond the walls. And then, for the first time in days, she spoke. “My mom told me to keep it a secret,” she whispered. “She told me that when the time came, I would know what to do. The time came, Mrs. Carmela. I told Dad that Mom is alive.”
I told her that she visits me in my dreams and tells me to be strong. Carmela felt tears streaming down her cheeks. « Is your mom alive, sweetheart? » « Yes, and she’s going to save us all. » Just then, Carmela’s phone rang. It was Dolores Medina. « Carmela, listen carefully. Sara Fuentes is alive. I have proof that Ramiro is innocent. We’re on our way to court. I need you to keep Salome safe until this is all over. » « How long? » « Less than 24 hours. »
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