Chapter 6 - The Floorboard Secret My fingers tightened around the brass candlestick, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. I looked from Alejandro’s cold, calculating eyes to the two thugs blocking the only exit.
"She wasn't senile," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the terror gripping my chest. "She was sharper than you’ll ever be, Alejandro. That’s why she didn't leave you a single cent."
Alejandro’s polite facade cracked instantly. A dark, furious flush crept up his neck. "You arrogant little parasite," he hissed, signaling to the scarred thug beside him. "Take it from him."
Before the man could lunge, I lunged backward, kicking my heel hard against the loose floorboard beneath the antique wardrobe—the very spot Carmen had hinted at in the final, smudged lines of her letter that I had deciphered in the dark. The wood gave way with a sharp snap.
Beneath the board sat a heavy, fireproof metal lockbox, coated in decades of dust.
The scarred thug grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around and sending the brass candlestick clattering across the floor. He pinned my arm behind my back, the pain shooting through my shoulder joint. Alejandro walked over, kneeling beside the open cavity in the floor, and pulled out the lockbox with a triumphant smirk.
"Found it," Alejandro murmured, flicking open the simple brass latch.
He lifted the lid.
May you like
His triumphant smile instantly vanished.
Inside the box wasn't the multi-million-dollar real estate portfolio or the master deeds to downtown Guadalajara. There was only a single, folded photograph of Carmen and her youngest son—the one who had died tragically years ago—and a handwritten note addressed directly to Alejandro.
