Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the North WingThe name dropped into the marble foyer like a lead weight.
Teresa Salazar.
Alejandro Ríos staggered half a step backward, his hand catching the polished wooden banister as if his knees had suddenly hollowed out. The absolute control he normally projected—the aura of a man who dominated boardrooms and negotiated multi-million-dollar real estate acquisitions across northern Mexico—shattered instantly.
"That's... that's impossible," Alejandro stammered, his voice dropping into a harsh, breathless whisper. He descended the remaining stairs, his expensive leather shoes clicking frantically against the stone. "Teresa left this house twenty-two months ago. She packed her bags and vanished three days after Lucía’s funeral. The police investigated. Mateo was four. He didn't even speak to her."
Valeria remained kneeling on the cold floor, her fingers lightly resting in her lap, anchoring the trembling boy beside her. Mateo’s small fingers were still tightly twisted into the coarse fabric of her white apron. His body was rigid, vibrating with a terror that defied logic.
"He remembers," Valeria said quietly, looking up at the towering businessman. "Children don't forget the voices that echo in the dark when they're grieving, Mr. Ríos. Especially when those voices are whispering poison."
Alejandro stopped inches away, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked down at his son, his expression a fractured mix of guilt, confusion, and rising panic. "Mateo... look at me. Did someone come back? Did you see Teresa?"
The boy shook his head so violently his dark hair whipped across his forehead. He pressed his face deeper into Valeria's shoulder, cutting off the world.
"She's... she's in the dark hallway," Mateo sobbed, the sound muffled and heart-wrenching. "She said if I tell Daddy, he'll send me away like he sent Mommy away."
Alejandro flinched as if he had been physically struck. "I never sent Lucía away! She... she died in the hospital!" His voice cracked, the deep-seated trauma of a widower tearing open raw in front of his employee.
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Valeria didn't hesitate. Trust had been built with the boy, but the house itself felt suddenly hostile. The crystal sconces overhead flickered, a sudden drop in temperature sweeping through the foyer from the direction of the unlit north wing.
"Mr. Ríos," Valeria said, her voice firm, cutting through the panic. "Turn on the lights."
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