CHAPTER 2 — THE MARKS THEY COULDN’T EXPLAIN
Alejandro could not move.
For several seconds, the bedroom seemed to fall completely silent.
Beneath the cream-colored nightgown, Valeria’s legs were covered with dark marks in different stages of healing. Some circled her ankles. Others ran along her knees and thighs as though she had fallen repeatedly against hard surfaces.
But it was the small red marks near her hip that made Alejandro’s stomach turn.
They were too precise.
Too evenly spaced.
They looked like injection marks.
His anger disappeared so quickly that it left him unsteady.
“Who did this to you?” he asked.
Valeria immediately pulled the blanket back over her legs.
Her hands trembled so badly that she could barely grip the fabric.
Alejandro reached toward her, but she recoiled.
That movement hurt him more than anything he had seen.
His own wife was afraid of his touch.
“Valeria,” he said, lowering his voice. “Look at me.”
She kept her eyes fixed on the mattress.
“I tried to tell you.”
“When?”
“Every time I asked you not to leave me alone with them.”
Alejandro’s chest tightened.
Memories returned in fragments.
Valeria asking to accompany him on business trips.
Valeria begging him to hire her own doctor.
Valeria refusing tea at family dinners.
Valeria calling him late at night, only to hang up when someone entered the room.
He had dismissed every warning.
He had called her emotional.
Overwhelmed.
Unprepared for the pressures of becoming an Aranda.
Now, for the first time, he understood that she had never been asking for attention.
She had been asking for protection.
A faint movement near the doorway caught his eye.
Marcela stood in the hallway.
Her arms were folded loosely across her chest, but her expression was no longer smug. Her eyes moved from Valeria’s covered legs to the small glass bottle on the bedside table.
Then she looked away.
Alejandro noticed.
He crossed the room and picked up the bottle.
The label had been removed.
“What is this?”
Marcela answered too quickly.
“Probably one of her prenatal supplements.”
Alejandro turned toward her.
“Without a label?”
Marcela gave a small shrug.
“You know how careless she can be.”
Valeria finally lifted her head.
“I never bought that bottle.”
Marcela’s jaw tightened.
Alejandro looked between the two women.
“Who gave it to you?”
Valeria’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Marcela stepped into the room.
“Brother, she hasn’t slept properly in days. She’s confused. You shouldn’t encourage this.”
Valeria’s face drained of what little color remained.
“Don’t let her near me.”
Alejandro moved instantly, placing himself between his wife and his sister.
Marcela stopped.
A thin silence stretched between them.
Alejandro held up the bottle.
“What is in this?”
“I already told you. I don’t know.”
“Then why did you look at it the moment I picked it up?”
For the first time, Marcela had no answer.
Alejandro’s phone suddenly vibrated in his hand.
Another message had arrived from the mansion’s security system.
The back entrance had opened.
Alejandro glanced at the screen.
A man in a dark coat was standing outside the service door.
It was the same shadowy figure from Marcela’s photograph.
Alejandro’s expression hardened.
“So he came back.”
Valeria grabbed his wrist.
“Please don’t hurt him.”
The words struck Alejandro like a blow.
“You do know him.”
“Yes.”
Marcela released a quiet, satisfied breath.
“I warned you.”
Alejandro looked down at his wife.
“Who is he?”
Valeria closed her eyes.
“His name is Dr. Mateo Solís.”
Alejandro recognized the name.
Mateo had served as the Aranda family’s private physician for nearly fifteen years. He had treated Alejandro’s father, delivered Marcela’s first child, and managed Doña Esther’s medical care.
Then, six months earlier, he had vanished from the family’s employment without explanation.
Alejandro had been told Mateo retired after making a serious medical error.
Valeria shook her head.
“He didn’t retire. Your mother fired him.”
“Why?”
“Because he discovered what they were giving me.”
Marcela stepped forward.
“That’s a lie.”
Valeria flinched.
Alejandro turned toward his sister with a look so cold that she stopped again.
“Not another word.”
He called the head of security.
“Bring Dr. Solís upstairs. Do not touch him. Then lock every exterior gate.”
Marcela’s eyes widened.
“You cannot imprison everyone in this house.”
“I’m not imprisoning anyone.”
Alejandro held up the unlabeled bottle.
“I’m preserving evidence.”
Less than two minutes later, footsteps approached the bedroom.
Dr. Mateo Solís entered with two security officers behind him.
He was in his early sixties, with gray hair, tired eyes, and rainwater darkening the shoulders of his coat.
When he saw Valeria, relief crossed his face.
“You’re still conscious.”
Alejandro grabbed the front of his coat.
“What did you do to my wife?”
Mateo did not resist.
“I tried to keep her alive.”
Alejandro’s grip tightened.
“Explain.”
Mateo looked toward Marcela.
She had gone completely still.
Then he looked back at Alejandro.
“The bottle in your hand contains a sedative mixed with medication that can lower blood pressure. In controlled doses, both have legitimate uses. But taken together over time—especially during pregnancy—they can cause weakness, confusion, dizziness, and falls.”
Alejandro slowly released him.
Valeria pressed one hand over her belly.
“That’s why I stopped getting out of bed,” she whispered. “Every time I stood up, the room started spinning.”
“Who gave it to you?” Alejandro asked.
Valeria looked toward the door.
Marcela was no longer alone.
Doña Esther stood behind her.
She wore a pearl-gray robe over her silk nightdress, her silver hair arranged perfectly despite the early hour.
Her expression was calm.
Almost disappointed.
Valeria’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Your mother.”
Doña Esther entered the room without hesitation.
“That is a very serious accusation.”
Mateo faced her.
“I tested the capsules you ordered the staff to place in Valeria’s vitamin container.”
“You broke into my home and stole private property.”
“I collected evidence of a crime.”
Esther’s gaze sharpened.
Alejandro stared at his mother.
“Tell me he’s lying.”
She did not answer immediately.
That pause was enough.
Alejandro looked at Marcela.
“You sent me the photograph.”
Marcela’s composure began to crack.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You knew Mateo was helping her.”
“I knew a strange man was entering your house after midnight.”
“You arranged for the camera to capture him.”
Marcela’s silence confirmed it.
Valeria reached beneath her pillow and removed a small digital recorder.
“I recorded them.”
Esther’s eyes shifted toward it.
For the first time, genuine fear entered her expression.
Valeria held the device against her chest.
“They thought I was unconscious.”
Alejandro took the recorder and pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Esther’s unmistakable voice emerged from the speaker.
“She only needs to appear unstable long enough for Alejandro to believe the child is unsafe with her.”
Marcela’s voice followed.
“And after the baby is born?”
“We take control. Valeria leaves with a settlement, or she leaves with nothing.”
The recording continued.
A third voice—belonging to the family attorney—discussed medical records, guardianship documents, and a plan to convince Alejandro that his wife was suffering from a severe psychological breakdown.
Alejandro stopped the recording.
His face had become unreadable.
Esther remained composed.
“You don’t understand the sacrifices required to protect this family.”
Alejandro looked at his mother as though he were seeing a stranger.
“You poisoned my pregnant wife.”
“I protected your heir.”
“You nearly took both of them from me.”
Esther’s expression hardened.
“That woman was never fit to carry the Aranda name.”
Alejandro stepped closer.
“That woman is my wife.”
“And she made you weak.”
“No.”
His voice remained quiet.
“You did.”
He handed the recorder and bottle to the head of security.
“Call the police.”
Marcela’s face collapsed.
“Alejandro, wait.”
He did not look at her.
But Dr. Mateo had not finished.
“There is something else you need to know.”
Alejandro turned.
Mateo’s face was grave.
“This was not the first time your mother used that medication.”
Esther’s calm expression finally shattered.
“Mateo, don’t.”
He reached inside his coat and removed a thin brown file.
On the cover was the name of Alejandro’s late stepmother.
Camila Aranda.
The woman Alejandro had been told died after suffering a sudden illness twenty-two years earlier.
May you like
Mateo placed the file in his hands.
“Your family buried the truth once before.”
