Chapter 7 - THE TRAP CLOSESThe phone line rang three times.
Each ring felt like an eternity echoing through the sterile, chemical-smelling bunker.
Around me, officers held their breath. Esteban watched with a smug, knowing smirk, confident that his sister-in-law had already slipped through the net.
On the fourth ring, the line clicked open.
"Mariana?"
Valeria’s voice came through the speaker—smooth, calm, and eerily composed, devoid of any panic, sounding precisely like the corporate executive she pretended to be.
"Valeria," I said, keeping my voice steady, injecting just enough exhaustion and tremor into my tone to sell the performance. "Val. Thank God you answered. I... I don't know what to do. The police are everywhere. They raided Adriana’s house. They found... they found the lab."
A brief pause hung on the line. I could hear the faint, muffled hum of jet engines in the background.
"Calm down, Mariana," Valeria said smoothly, her tone dripping with condescended pity. "Breathe. What do you mean they found the lab? Which lab?"
"The vault under the pantry, Valeria!" I cried out, letting a sob break through my lips to make it convincing. "The police opened it. They found the patient logs, the compounding vats, everything! Esteban has been arrested. Adriana is at the precinct. They're saying it's a child-drugging syndicate. They're going to take Mateo away from me if they think I was involved!"
Another pause. Longer this time.
I held my breath, praying to whatever gods were listening that she would take the bait.
"Listen to me very carefully, Mariana," Valeria said, her voice dropping its warm sisterly facade, turning ice-cold and clinical. "You are not involved. You were simply a stressed-out mother whose child was unruly. But if you start talking to the federal prosecutor about Solares Bio-Tech, or if you mention my name in connection with those supply logs... you will never see Mateo again. I have legal teams in three countries who can strip your custody rights before sunrise on grounds of medical negligence."
I pressed record on Ramírez’s backup voice recorder, holding the phone close.
"You bitch," I whispered, dropping the act entirely. "You drugged my son. You drugged dozens of children. You're a monster, Valeria."
Valeria chuckled softly on the other end—a chilling, hollow sound.
"I'm a pioneer, little sister. The world is full of chaotic, screaming children and weak parents who can't handle them. We provided a solution. And as for me? By the time sunrise hits the Atlantic, I won't even be on your radar."
"You forgot one thing, Valeria," I said, a grim smile touching my lips.
"And what is that?"
"My phone's location services were never turned off."
I looked up at Ramírez. The detective gave a sharp, decisive nod to his lead tech officer standing by the laptop.
Across the room, the tech slammed his hand down on the enter key.
"IP trace locked and pinged," the tech shouted over the hum of the servers. "Private Jet Citation Sovereign, tail number XA-VBS, currently ascending through 28,000 feet over international airspace off the coast of Oaxaca, routed toward San José, Costa Rica!"
Valeria’s voice on the phone suddenly hitched. The cool composure vanished instantly.
"What... what did you just say?"
"Enjoy the flight, sis," I said clearly into the receiver. "Because when you land in Costa Rica, Interpol will be waiting at the tarmac with open handcuffs and a federal extradition warrant."
Click.
I hung up the phone.
For a second, absolute silence filled the underground bunker.
Then, Ramírez clapped his hand heavily on my shoulder.
"Good work, Mariana. That call just gave us the final jurisdictional hook for an international red notice."
As Esteban cursed and slumped further into his chair, chained in his own subterranean trap, I finally felt the heavy, suffocating weight lift off my chest.
It was over. Or so I thought.
May you like
Because as Ramírez’s team packed up the evidence bags, an officer walked out of the back utility alcove holding a small, blood-stained digital flash drive that didn't belong to Valeria, or Adriana, or Esteban.
It belonged to someone else entirely. Someone who hadn't fled the country, and who was currently sitting in the waiting room at the hospital... right beside my son.
