PART 2:
The laughter lasted only three seconds.
Soft.
Bright.
Impossible.
Then the mansion fell silent again, swallowed by thunder and darkness.
No one in the kitchen moved.
A pot hissed on the gas stove. Rain slapped the tall windows. Somewhere in the walls, the emergency system clicked helplessly, trying and failing to bring the lights back.
Elena stood at the foot of the service stairs with one hand pressed against the wooden railing, her heart pounding so hard she felt it in her fingertips.
Mrs. Herrera grabbed her wrist.
“Do not go upstairs.”
Elena turned slowly. “You heard it too.”
The older woman’s grip tightened.
“I said do not go upstairs.”
But fear had already changed the servants’ faces. Two housekeepers crossed themselves. The young gardener, soaked from bringing in the patio furniture, whispered, “It’s starting again.”
Again.
That single word settled over Elena like cold dust.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Mrs. Herrera’s eyes flashed. “Nothing.”
But the lie was too quick.
Another sound came from above.
Metallic.
Delicate.
A music box turning one broken note at a time.
Then the laughter again.
This time, it was followed by a whisper.
“Papá…”
The word drifted through the mansion like a ghost touching every wall.
Elena stopped breathing.
Mrs. Herrera’s face crumpled in horror.
From somewhere upstairs, Rodrigo’s voice thundered.
“Who is there?”
His footsteps crossed the second floor with violent speed.
Elena pulled free from Mrs. Herrera and ran.
“Elena!” the older woman hissed.
But Elena was already climbing the dark stairs, her shoes silent against the runner carpet. Lightning flashed through the windows, turning the hallway silver for one instant.
At the far end stood Rodrigo.
Barefoot.
Still in his white shirt and dark trousers.
One hand braced against the wall.
The other held a heavy brass key.
He was staring at the locked bedroom door as if it had become a living thing.
The music box played from inside.
Slow.
Uneven.
Familiar enough to destroy him.
Elena approached carefully. “Señor Cárdenas…”
“Go downstairs.”
His voice was raw.
She stopped several steps away.
“I heard a child.”
His jaw clenched.
“You heard pipes. Old wood. Storm sounds.”
See more on the next page
