Chapter 4 - Doña Clara’s Warning I crashed through the swinging plastic flaps of Doña Clara’s storage stall, breathless, drenched, and shaking. Clara looked up from a crate of tomatoes, her lined face instantly tightening as she took in my terrified expression and bleeding knuckles.
"Diego? What on earth happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost," she scolded softly, handing me a rag.
"They're after me, Clara," I gasped, locking the metal gate behind me. "The men in suits. They tracked me to my room. Because of Carmen’s letter."
Clara froze. The tomato she was holding slipped from her hand, rolling across the wooden table. For a long, tense moment, she said nothing. She walked over to the heavy iron door of the stall, slid the deadbolt into place, and pulled down a thick canvas curtain over the small window.
"I warned her," Clara muttered, shaking her head. "I told that stubborn old woman that hiding the truth would only bring blood to her doorstep."
"What truth?" I demanded, gripping the edge of the table. "What did Carmen hide in that house? The letter mentioned a will, but... it sounded like there was much more."
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Clara sighed, her eyes heavy with decades of local secrets. "Carmen wasn't just some lonely widow living off charity, Diego. Decades ago, before her husband passed, they owned half the commercial district in this city. When her sons turned greedy, they tried to institutionalize her to seize the real estate portfolio. Carmen fought back legally, hid the master deeds, and transferred the core assets into a secret trust—one that could only be unlocked by someone outside the family who showed her genuine, uncalculated kindness for at least six months."
She looked straight into my eyes. "You passed her test, Diego. But her oldest son, Alejandro—a ruthless corporate raider in Mexico City—has spent ten years hunting for those documents. And he believes you have them."
