CHAPTER 3 — The Childhood Photograph Was Never an Accident... Someone Had Been Hiding the Truth for 22 Years
The black SUV pulled away from the community center.
But Mateo never told his driver where to go.
He simply stared through the window.
His mind wasn't on the billion-peso project.
It wasn't on tomorrow's board meeting.
It wasn't even on the death threat he didn't yet know existed.
His thoughts remained trapped in a single moment...
The instant Roberto's face changed after seeing that old school photograph.
It wasn't surprise.
It wasn't confusion.
It was fear.
Pure fear.
And Mateo had spent years negotiating with politicians, billionaires, and criminals.
He knew exactly what fear looked like.
Someone was hiding something.
Across town...
Valeria quietly unlocked the door to her tiny apartment.
The lights were off.
She hoped Roberto hadn't returned yet.
She wanted one peaceful hour.
Just one.
She placed her folders on the kitchen table and rubbed her tired eyes.
The meeting had drained her.
But something felt strangely different.
The billionaire's voice.
His eyes.
The faded red thread on his wrist.
Why had it unsettled her so deeply?
She walked to an old wooden cabinet and opened the bottom drawer.
Hidden beneath old notebooks was a small metal box.
Inside...
Wrapped in a faded handkerchief...
Lay another piece of red thread.
She had kept it for twenty-two years.
Even after everyone laughed at her.
Even after life became difficult.
Even after she convinced herself the homeless boy had probably forgotten.
She had never thrown it away.
She gently touched it.
"I wonder what happened to you..."
she whispered.
A tear rolled down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away.
"What am I thinking?"
"He's probably forgotten I even exist."
The apartment door suddenly slammed open.
Roberto was home.
His cheerful smile from the meeting had disappeared.
He tossed his keys onto the table.
"Where were you after everyone left?"
Valeria looked confused.
"I stayed to organize the paperwork."
"You spoke to Castillo."
"He picked up the photograph."
"So?"
Roberto stepped closer.
Too close.
"I don't like you talking to him."
"I wasn't talking to him."
"He came to me."
Roberto's jaw tightened.
"You'll stay away from him."
Valeria frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
The room became silent.
She lowered her eyes.
Not because she agreed.
Because arguing usually made things worse.
Several minutes later...
Roberto entered the bathroom.
The moment the shower started...
Valeria quietly reached into his jacket to remove his wallet.
She wasn't searching for money.
She wanted the old school photograph.
It wasn't there.
Instead...
She found a folded piece of paper.
It was a bank deposit receipt.
Amount received:
2,500,000 pesos.
Sender:
Grupo Horizonte Holdings.
The payment had been made only three days earlier.
Valeria frowned.
She had never heard of the company.
Why would a neighborhood organizer receive millions of pesos?
Before she could read further...
The shower stopped.
She hurriedly returned everything exactly as it had been.
Her heart raced.
Something wasn't right.
Meanwhile...
Mateo arrived at his headquarters.
Instead of going home...
He headed straight for the archives.
His security director looked surprised.
"You've never been down here."
"I need every document related to Vicente Guerrero Elementary."
The director blinked.
"From twenty-two years ago?"
"Everything."
Yearbooks.
Photographs.
Property records.
Donation files.
Even newspaper clippings.
For nearly four hours...
Dust covered Mateo's expensive suit as he searched through forgotten boxes.
Finally...
An elderly archivist approached.
"I think this belongs to you."
She handed him a cardboard envelope.
It had been donated years earlier by an old school principal.
Inside...
Mateo found dozens of photographs.
Then...
His breathing stopped.
One picture showed little Valeria passing a sandwich through the school fence.
The homeless boy accepted it with both hands.
Someone had secretly photographed them.
On the back...
Written in faded ink...
were seven words.
Never let them discover who he really is.
Mateo's blood ran cold.
Who had written that?
And who exactly...
was "he"?
At the same time...
In another part of the city...
The mysterious man in the gray baseball cap entered an abandoned warehouse.
Five other people were already waiting.
A projector displayed one enormous image on the wall.
Mateo Castillo.
Red letters suddenly appeared across the screen.
TARGET STATUS: ACTIVE
The leader spoke calmly.
"He found another photograph."
A woman in a black suit crossed her arms.
"Then we're running out of time."
Another man asked,
"What about the girl?"
The leader smiled.
"She still doesn't remember."
"And Roberto?"
"He'll keep her under control."
The room fell silent.
Then the leader pressed another button.
A childhood birth certificate appeared on the screen.
Name:
Mateo Castillo
Across it...
A large red stamp had been placed years ago.
FALSE IDENTITY
Every person in the room stared silently.
The leader finally whispered,
"If Mateo discovers who his real parents were..."
"Everything we built over the last twenty-two years disappears."
The next morning...
Valeria visited Doña Teresa.
The elderly woman had taught at Vicente Guerrero Elementary decades earlier.
She was now ninety years old and suffered from memory problems.
Valeria brought groceries every Wednesday.
As always.
The old woman smiled warmly.
"My favorite little helper."
While putting food away...
Valeria noticed dozens of dusty photo albums stacked on a shelf.
"Can I help organize these?"
Doña Teresa nodded happily.
As Valeria turned the pages...
She suddenly froze.
There it was.
The exact same photograph from the community center.
Only this one hadn't been folded.
The image was much clearer.
The homeless boy's face could finally be seen.
Valeria's fingers began trembling.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She knew those eyes.
She had seen them only yesterday.
The billionaire.
Mateo Castillo.
Impossible...
Before she could look closer...
Doña Teresa suddenly grabbed the album.
"No."
"You mustn't look at that."
Valeria stared at her.
"Why?"
The old teacher's hands began shaking uncontrollably.
Fear filled her faded eyes.
"Because..."
"They killed to keep that photograph hidden."
The room fell deathly silent.
Before Valeria could ask another question...
A loud crash exploded outside the house.
Someone had just thrown a brick through the front window.
Wrapped around it...
Was a handwritten note.
Only five words.
May you like
Stop asking about 2008... or die.
END OF CHAPTER 3
