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. / Chapter 2 / 19

Chapter 3 - Shadows Beneath the FloorboardsThe north wing of the Ríos mansion was a ghost zone.

While the rest of the estate gleamed with modern minimalist luxury—imported Italian tiles, contemporary art, and smart-home automation—the north wing had been sealed off shortly after Lucía Ríos's tragic death. Alejandro had claimed it was out of grief; the rooms were simply too full of memories.

Now, with Alejandro holding a heavy antique brass flashlight and Valeria guiding Mateo by the hand, they stepped across the threshold into the gloom.

The air smelled stale, thick with dust and a faint, unsettling scent of dried lavender and old perfume—the exact scent Teresa Salazar used to wear.

"Teresa was Lucía’s personal assistant and private nurse during her final months," Alejandro murmured, sweeping the beam of light across shrouded furniture. Dust sheets covered ornate armchairs and grand pianos. "When Lucía passed away from that sudden, catastrophic heart failure... Teresa cleaned out her quarters and left a resignation letter on the kitchen island. She never cashed her final paycheck."

"People don't just walk away from money unless they're running from something," Valeria noted, her eyes scanning the shadows. She kept Mateo close, her senses hyper-alert. Every floorboard creaked beneath their feet like a warning.

Mateo suddenly stopped, tugging hard on Valeria's hand. He pointed a trembling finger toward a heavy mahogany door at the very end of the corridor—the former private suite of Teresa Salazar.

Unlike the other rooms, the door was not locked. It stood ajar by a fraction of an inch. A faint, pale sliver of light leaked from beneath the crack.

Alejandro froze. "No one has been in that room in two years. The maids have strict orders never to enter."

"Then who turned on the lamp inside?" Valeria whispered.

Before Alejandro could reach for the handle, the door slowly creaked open on its own.

Inside, sitting in front of a vanity mirror surrounded by unburnt candles, was a leather-bound journal. Beside it lay an open jewelry box sparkling with diamonds that belonged to the late Lucía Ríos—diamonds that were supposed to be locked inside the estate's main safe.

Alejandro lunged into the room, his face pale with fury and disbelief. He snatched up the journal, flipping open the cover. His eyes scanned the frantic, manic handwriting scrawled across the pages.