SHE BROUGHT CHOCOLATES TO SURPRISE HER HUSBAND... THEN A SECURITY GUARD EXPOSED THE DOUBLE LIFE HE HAD HIDDEN FOR 15 YEARS CHAPTER 3 – THE LIST OF VANISHED WIVES
Elena couldn't take her eyes off the second file.
Three different women.
Three different photographs.
Three different names.
Yet every document carried the exact same title.
Wife of Jorge Monteiro.
Her hands began to tremble.
"This... this has to be a mistake."
Ricardo slowly shook his head.
"I wish it were."
He carefully laid the files across the security desk.
The oldest badge belonged to a woman named Sofia Monteiro.
Approved in 2011.
Canceled in 2014.
No explanation.
The second belonged to Camila Monteiro.
Approved in 2014.
Canceled in 2018.
Again...
No explanation.
The newest belonged to the elegant woman Elena had just seen walking through the lobby.
Valeria Monteiro.
Approved in 2018.
Still active.
Elena's pulse raced.
"But Jorge has only one wife."
Ricardo looked at her sadly.
"That's exactly what I believed."
Silence filled the room.
Then Elena whispered the question neither of them wanted to ask.
"What happened to the others?"
Ricardo turned toward an old filing cabinet tucked into the corner.
"I've worked security long enough to know something."
"When companies erase records..."
"They rarely erase everything."
He unlocked the bottom drawer.
Inside were dozens of archived incident reports waiting to be shredded.
Most were routine.
Parking disputes.
Lost visitor badges.
Medical emergencies.
Then one folder caught his attention.
CONFIDENTIAL INCIDENT – NOT FOR DIGITAL ARCHIVE
The pages were yellow with age.
Someone had tried to tear out the last sheet.
Only half remained.
Ricardo read aloud.
"Visitor identified as Mrs. Sofia Monteiro requested access to Executive Floor."
"Entry denied under direct instruction from CFO Jorge Monteiro."
"Visitor became emotionally distressed and repeatedly stated:"
"I am his real wife."
Elena felt her knees weaken.
Those were the exact words she herself had spoken less than an hour earlier.
Ricardo continued reading.
"Visitor escorted outside the premises."
"No police involvement requested."
"Subject departed alone."
The report ended there.
No follow-up.
No explanation.
No record of what happened afterward.
Almost as if the woman's life simply...
Stopped.
A cold realization spread through Elena's body.
She wasn't the first.
She had never been the first.
How many women had stood in this lobby insisting they were Jorge's wife?
How many had been dismissed as confused...
Or unstable...
Or delusional?
And where were they now?
"Wait."
Elena suddenly reached into her handbag.
She pulled out her wallet.
Inside was the worn photograph she had carried for years.
Their twentieth wedding anniversary.
She and Jorge stood together in front of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
Both smiling.
Both wearing matching gold wedding bands.
Ricardo examined it carefully.
His eyebrows lifted.
"This photo..."
"What?"
"It wasn't taken twenty years ago."
Elena frowned.
"What do you mean?"
He pointed toward the background.
"The tower behind you."
"It wasn't renovated until twelve years ago."
Elena stared at the picture.
"No..."
"That's impossible."
"I remember that trip."
"I remember everything."
Ricardo remained silent.
Finally he asked,
"Do you still have the original negatives?"
"No."
"The photos were on Jorge's camera."
"What about hotel receipts?"
"No."
"Travel tickets?"
"He always kept those."
Family albums?
"Also with Jorge."
One by one...
Every memory Elena relied on existed only because Jorge had preserved it.
Or told it.
A terrifying thought entered her mind.
What if...
Some of her memories weren't memories at all?
What if they were stories repeated so many times...
She simply believed they had happened?
She quickly searched her phone.
Wedding photos.
Anniversary pictures.
Vacation albums.
Almost every photograph had been scanned from printed copies.
Very few had original timestamps.
Many were strangely blurry around the edges.
As though someone had edited them years earlier.
She suddenly remembered something else.
Whenever friends asked why Jorge never posted family photos online...
He always laughed.
"I'm old-fashioned."
"I prefer privacy."
At the time...
She thought it was charming.
Now...
It felt calculated.
Ricardo looked toward the hallway.
"We're running out of time."
"If management finds you here..."
"I'll lose everything."
Elena nodded.
She understood.
Then he opened one final drawer.
"I've never shown this to anyone."
Inside lay a small black notebook.
Not company property.
His personal journal.
"I started writing things down years ago."
"Things that didn't make sense."
He turned several pages.
Names.
Dates.
Descriptions.
Visitors who claimed to know Jorge.
People who mysteriously stopped returning.
Executives who resigned without warning.
Then...
One page made Elena stop breathing.
Across the top...
Written in bold capital letters...
WOMEN WHO CLAIMED TO BE MRS. MONTEIRO
Below it...
There weren't three names.
There weren't five.
There were twelve.
Twelve different women.
Across fifteen years.
Some stayed for months.
Some for years.
Every one of them eventually disappeared.
Beside each name Ricardo had written the same haunting word.
ERASED.
"What does 'erased' mean?"
Ricardo swallowed hard.
"I don't know."
"They simply vanished."
"They stopped visiting."
"They stopped calling."
"It's as if they never existed."
"No missing-person reports."
"No media coverage."
"No family members asking questions."
"Nothing."
Elena stared at the notebook.
Then at her own wedding ring.
A ring she had worn for four decades.
Suddenly...
It felt unbearably heavy.
Before either of them could speak again...
The security office phone rang.
Ricardo answered.
His face immediately turned white.
"Yes..."
"I understand."
He slowly hung up.
"They know you're here."
Elena's heart stopped.
"Who?"
"The executive floor."
"They're reviewing today's lobby cameras."
"They saw you speaking to me."
"Someone just ordered me to keep you here."
"For security."
He looked directly into Elena's eyes.
Then quietly locked the office door.
"You have exactly three minutes."
"After that..."
"They'll come downstairs."
He reached beneath the desk and handed her a small brass key attached to a faded tag.
It read only three words.
Storage Room B-17.
"What's there?" Elena whispered.
Ricardo's voice shook.
"I've never opened it."
"But every woman on that list..."
He looked once more at the notebook.
"...visited that room the day before she disappeared."
Outside...
Footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Not one person.
Several.
They were coming.
And someone...
May you like
Already knew Elena had uncovered the first piece of the truth.
End of Chapter 3.
