CHAPTER 1 — The Voice Beneath the Floor
"Daddy... Leo is cold."
Five-year-old Inés didn't cry.
She didn't point toward a closet or complain about imaginary monsters.
She simply knelt in the center of her aunt Patricia's spotless living room, laid both palms against the brand-new hardwood floor, and spoke in a calm voice that chilled every adult in the room.
"My brother says he can't breathe very well."
Silence swallowed the house.
Daniel Rivas felt the blood drain from his face.
His wife, Mariana, nearly collapsed into the dining chair.
Their son Leo had vanished ten months earlier without a trace.
Seven years old.
Gone in less than five minutes.
Police searched forests, rivers, abandoned buildings, and surveillance footage. Volunteers covered Guadalajara with missing posters. Thousands shared Leo's picture online.
Nothing.
No witnesses.
No ransom.
No body.
Only heartbreak.
Patricia had become Mariana's greatest comfort. She cooked meals, helped organize search parties, cried beside them during sleepless nights, and repeated the same promise over and over.
"We'll find him."
Months later, she suddenly sold her apartment and moved into a luxurious new house in Querétaro.
She claimed she wanted a fresh start.
No one questioned it.
Until now.
Patricia entered the living room carrying fresh coffee.
The moment she saw Inés touching the floor...
...the smile vanished from her face.
"What is she doing?"
Inés ignored her.
She slowly crawled toward one corner of the room.
"Leo says it hurts when people walk here."
Patricia almost dropped both mugs.
Daniel stared at her.
She recovered too quickly.
"Oh, sweetheart," Patricia laughed nervously. "Children invent stories all the time."
But Inés kept listening.
"He says the room used to be darker."
Mariana burst into tears.
Daniel pressed his ear against the hardwood.
Nothing.
Just silence.
Then...
Knock...
Knock...
Knock...
Three faint taps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Coming from somewhere below.
Daniel shot to his feet.
He shoved the heavy coffee table aside.
Patricia rushed forward.
"Daniel, stop!"
Not...
"There's nothing there."
Not...
"You're imagining it."
Just...
"Stop."
And suddenly...
Daniel remembered something Patricia had casually mentioned months ago.
"I replaced every floorboard myself."
Why would anyone replace an entire floor in a nearly new house?
His eyes settled on one plank near the fireplace.
It was slightly darker.
The nails were newer.
And trapped inside a narrow crack...
...was what looked like the edge of a tiny fingernail.
Patricia's face lost all color.
May you like
She whispered only one word.
"Please..."
