Rodrigo stopped breathing.
Maribel’s recorded voice trembled.
“Your daughter did not die in the crash.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Rodrigo’s hand tightened around the phone.
Maribel began to cry.
“But I helped them take her.”
The video cut to black.
For several seconds, the only sound was rain.
Then Rodrigo whispered, “Play it again.”
Henderson obeyed.
Again Maribel appeared.
Again she said the words.
Your daughter did not die in the crash.
But I helped them take her.
This time, when the screen went black, another sound emerged from the phone.
A child’s voice.
Older than a toddler now.
Soft.
Terrified.
“Please don’t tell my father I’m alive.”
Elena’s blood turned cold.
Rodrigo stood motionless in the rain, the red ribbon in one hand, the false hospital bracelet in the other, and the impossible voice of his daughter echoing from a dead woman’s confession.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Every person in the garden froze.
Rodrigo answered.
At first, there was only static.
Then a woman spoke.
“She remembers you now.”
Rodrigo’s face hardened into something lethal.
“Who is this?”
The woman ignored him.
“She has your eyes.”
Elena watched his throat move.
“Where is my daughter?”
A pause.
Then the woman laughed softly.
“Closer than you think.”
The line went dead.
At that exact moment, the lights in the mansion flickered again.
One by one, every window on the second floor went dark.
Except Sofía’s bedroom.
Its pink curtains glowed from within.
And behind them, small and unmistakable, stood the silhouette of a child.
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