Chapter 2 - The Shadow at the Glass Door and the Birth in Blood
The shadow against the frosted glass of the patio door wasn't an intruder. As Valeria lay gasping on the cold marble floor, her vision blurring from the agonizing waves of a transitional contraction, the sliding door shattered. Glass rained down like diamond dust, and through the dust stormed Mateo.
Mateo was Rodrigo’s estranged older half-brother—the black sheep whom Doña Teresa had cast out of the family years ago for refusing to surrender his inheritance to her whims. Mateo had been driving by the estate to drop off an old family document when he saw Rodrigo, Ximena, and Teresa piling into an Uber with mountains of luggage, completely ignoring the faint screams echoing from inside the house.
"Valeria!" Mateo roared, dropping to his knees in the glittering shards of glass. He didn't hesitate. He pulled off his jacket, placing it under her head, his hands instantly covered in the fluid and blood pooling on the white San Pedro marble. "I saw them leave. Those monsters... they locked you in?"
"The deadbolts..." Valeria choked out, her fingers digging into Mateo’s forearms with terrifying strength. "Rodrigo... he took the master keychain. Mateo, the baby... he's coming. Now."
Outside, the distant wail of sirens began to pierce the quiet, wealthy air of San Pedro Garza García. But the baby wasn't waiting for the paramedics. Valeria’s body convulsed sharply. A primal, agonizing scream tore from her throat as the final stage of labor took over. Mateo, relying on nothing but adrenaline and the emergency instructions being yelled through Valeria’s speakerphone by the 911 dispatcher, guided her through the most terrifying moments of her life.
With one final, earth-shattering push, the cries of a newborn boy filled the empty, echoing mansion.
Precisely three minutes later, the fire department breached the heavy oak front doors with a motorized saw, destroying the pristine wood that Doña Teresa prized so much. As the paramedics rushed in to stabilize Valeria and the newborn, a text message buzzed on Valeria’s phone, which was still resting on the coffee table.
It was a selfie from Ximena, taken from the first-class lounge at the airport. In the background, Doña Teresa was raising a glass of champagne. The caption read: “Sipping mimosas before takeoff! Hope your little tantrum is over, Vale. See you in a week! 🥂✨”
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Mateo picked up the phone, his eyes burning with a silent, lethal rage as he looked at the screen, then at the shattered glass, and finally at his traumatized sister-in-law being lifted onto a stretcher.
"They think they’re going to Miami," Mateo whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying calm. "But they just booked a one-way ticket to hell."
