Chapter 1 - The Voice from the Grave

The audio file on Marina’s phone was timestamped three minutes ago. Ignacio’s thumb hovered over the screen, trembling so violently he nearly dropped the device into the crib. Little April lay completely silent now, her dark, wide eyes fixed squarely on his face with an unnerving, knowing intensity.
"My love... if you’re hearing this, it’s because nobody told you the truth," Marina’s voice breathed through the tiny speaker. It was smooth, clear, and utterly devastating. "Don't look at our daughter with hatred. She didn’t take me from you. They did."
Ignacio gasped, stumbling backward until his spine slammed hard against the nursery wall. The photograph of Marina in her yellow dress downstairs seemed to pulse in his memory. "Who?" he whispered aloud to the empty room. "Marina, who are you talking about?"
"Listen to me carefully," the recording continued, the background static hissing like a dying fire. "The hemorrhage wasn't an accident. Dr. Silva... he was never supposed to be in that operating room. Check my medical locker at the clinic. There is a flash drive inside. Find the truth, Ignacio. And protect our baby. They know I figured it out."
The audio cut off with a sharp click. Instantly, the cell phone screen went black.
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Ignacio stood frozen in the dim blue glow of the nightlight. The grief that had hollowed him out for six weeks instantly evaporated, replaced by a cold, white-hot fury. He looked down at the infant in the crib. The red bracelet with the St. Christopher medal caught the light. Someone had been in this house. Someone had unlocked the door, placed the phone under the pillow, and tied that thread around his daughter's wrist.
And they had killed his wife.