Chapter 1
“We went to Los Cabos. Take care of the old man—and don't spend a single peso on nurses.”
The message was scribbled on a paper napkin beside Verónica's house keys.
His mother-in-law had added a note in red marker:
“We'll be back in 14 days. If he becomes too much trouble, just let him sleep.”
Javier Lozano read the note twice.
He had just returned after spending 72 hours in a warehouse in Tepatitlán, fixing an inventory mistake that could have cost the company 300,000 pesos.
He was covered in dust...
And had expected his wife to ask how he was doing.
Instead...
The house felt abandoned.
Verónica had left with her parents, Rogelio and Claudia.
Also traveling with them was Sebastián Luján, the young accountant who had been spending far too much time around Verónica for months.
The "old man" they referred to was Don Eusebio Carranza—Verónica's grandfather and the founder of Transportes Carranza, the trucking company where Javier had worked long before marrying into the family.
After suffering a major heart attack two years earlier...
Don Eusebio had become almost completely immobile.
Unable to speak.
Unable to stand on his own.
The family had moved him into a tiny room behind the servants' quarters.
Javier was the only person who visited him every day.
He warmed up soup for him.
Adjusted his pillows.
And talked to him about the truck drivers...
The delivery routes...
And the company's invoices.
Verónica used to laugh at him.
“Seriously, Javier?”
“You talk to him like he can actually understand you.”
“Just because he can't answer doesn't mean he can't hear me,” Javier would reply.
“It means he's not really here anymore,” she would scoff.
Javier sprinted down the hallway.
Don Eusebio's bedroom door had been locked...
From the outside.
He ripped the bolt off with such force that it sliced open the palm of his hand.
The moment he opened the door...
A dry, suffocating smell hit him in the face.
Don Eusebio lay curled on his side.
His lips were cracked.
His skin was pale.
An empty water pitcher sat on the bedside table.
Javier reached for his neck.
The pulse was faint.
“Hang on, Don Eusebio.”
“I'm calling an ambulance.”
He pulled out his phone.
But a frail, bony hand suddenly gripped his wrist.
“Don't call... not yet,” the old man whispered.
The voice was weak...
Hoarse...
Yet perfectly clear.
Javier froze.
Don Eusebio slowly opened his eyes.
They no longer looked vacant.
They were the sharp, determined eyes of the businessman who had built a fleet of 40 trucks from nothing.
“Close the door,” he ordered.
“Move the dresser.”
“There's a loose floorboard underneath.”
Javier obeyed.
Hidden beneath the floor...
He found bottled water.
Medical saline.
A cell phone.
A flash drive.
And copies of legal contracts.
The old man slowly drank some water.
Javier stared at him in disbelief.
“You... you can talk?”
Don Eusebio nodded.
“I can talk.”
“I can walk—with a little help.”
“And I remember everything they did once they believed I was no longer worth anything.”
He picked up the hidden phone...
And made a call.
“Dr. Ibarra, come immediately.”
“Bring Attorney Montes.”
“The test is over.”
Then he looked at Javier...
With a sadness that weighed even heavier than anger.
“For two years...”
“I pretended to be lost...”
“To find out who would stay once I had nothing left to offer.”
A knot formed in Javier's stomach.
“And... Verónica?”
Don Eusebio inserted the flash drive into a laptop.
The first video began to play.
On the screen...
Verónica was kissing Sebastián in the kitchen.
Then her voice echoed through the speakers.
“As soon as Grandpa dies...”
“We'll throw Javier out...”
“Sell the trucking routes...”
“And disappear with the 8,000,000 pesos.”
Javier stopped breathing.
Don Eusebio quietly opened another folder.
May you like
He looked straight at Javier.
“That's not even the worst part, son.”
