CHAPTER 2 — The Witness Everyone Thought Was Dead
The newspaper clipping fluttered across Alejandro Garza's polished mahogany desk before coming to rest beside the folded prayer Citlali had left only moments earlier.
The room became deathly silent.
Even the ticking of the antique Swiss clock seemed unbearably loud.
Alejandro slowly opened his eyes.
The medication had finally begun wearing off.
His fingers twitched.
His breathing grew stronger.
But what truly shocked everyone was the expression on his face.
He wasn't looking at the newspaper.
He wasn't looking at the elegant woman accusing Citlali.
He was staring directly at Citlali herself.
Fear.
Confusion.
And heartbreak filled her eyes.
"I swear..." she whispered, barely able to breathe. "I don't know what she's talking about."
The elegant woman folded her arms with a smug smile.
"My name is Verónica Salazar."
"I represent the Garza Family Foundation."
She looked toward Alejandro.
"Sir... I warned your assistant years ago that Rosario Mendoza couldn't simply disappear without leaving someone behind."
Then she pointed again at Citlali.
"Now we know where she hid."
Citlali shook her head violently.
"My grandmother has never hidden from anyone."
"She has been bedridden for almost two years."
"She can't even walk without oxygen."
Verónica laughed.
"Convenient."
Very convenient."
Alejandro finally managed to sit upright.
The room immediately filled with anxious voices.
"Sir!"
"Should I call a doctor?"
"Should I contact the hospital?"
He raised one hand.
"No."
His voice remained calm.
Almost frighteningly calm.
Everyone obeyed instantly.
He looked at Citlali.
"When exactly did you start working here?"
"Four weeks ago."
"And before that?"
"I cleaned offices in Santa Fe."
"And before that?"
"A nursing home."
"Before that?"
She lowered her eyes.
"I cared for my grandmother."
Every answer came immediately.
No hesitation.
No contradictions.
Alejandro noticed.
Liars usually added unnecessary details.
Citlali never did.
Verónica suddenly reached into her luxury handbag again.
"I expected denial."
"So I brought more."
She placed several old photographs onto the desk.
The first showed police officers standing beside the wreckage of Alejandro's SUV near Lake Valle de Bravo.
The second showed emergency workers pulling twisted metal from the water.
The third—
Alejandro stopped breathing.
It showed Rosario Mendoza wrapped in a blanket.
Standing only a few meters from the lake.
Alive.
Watching.
Watching everything.
His hands began shaking.
"She was there..."
he whispered.
"She saw everything."
Verónica nodded.
"And then she vanished."
"For three years."
"Without giving a statement."
Citlali slowly picked up one of the photographs.
Her eyes widened.
"I've... never seen this before."
Verónica smiled coldly.
"Of course not."
"Rosario never told you."
Citlali looked completely lost.
"My grandmother always said she had worked in Valle de Bravo years ago."
"She never mentioned an accident."
Alejandro carefully studied her face.
There was genuine shock.
No performance.
No fake tears.
Just confusion.
He had spent thirty years negotiating billion-dollar mergers.
Reading people's expressions had become second nature.
And right now...
Citlali looked like someone discovering her own family's history for the first time.
The silence was interrupted by Alejandro's assistant.
"Sir..."
"There is something else."
Everyone turned toward Mauricio.
He swallowed nervously.
"I checked our employee records this morning."
He placed a thin folder onto the desk.
"Our security system flagged something unusual."
Alejandro opened it.
Inside was Citlali's employment application.
Everything appeared normal.
Address.
Education.
References.
Until he reached the emergency contact section.
Emergency Contact: Rosario Mendoza
Date of Birth...
Current Address...
Medical History...
Nothing suspicious.
Then...
One handwritten note caught Alejandro's attention.
It had been added by Doña Socorro during the interview.
"Applicant refused advance salary despite family financial hardship."
Alejandro frowned.
"She refused money?"
Doña Socorro nodded.
"I offered her two months' salary in advance after hearing about her grandmother's illness."
"She thanked me..."
"...and said she would never accept money she hadn't earned."
Verónica rolled her eyes.
"A wonderful performance."
"Professional manipulators often pretend to be saints."
Citlali couldn't stay silent any longer.
"I don't want your pity."
"I only wanted honest work."
Her voice cracked.
"My grandmother raised me to believe that stolen money always brings another tragedy."
Those words hit Alejandro unexpectedly.
Because Elena...
His late wife...
Had believed exactly the same thing.
Alejandro stood up.
The room instantly fell silent.
He slowly walked toward the enormous window overlooking Mexico City.
For nearly a minute...
Nobody dared speak.
Finally he turned around.
"Verónica."
"Yes, Alejandro?"
"You've spent three years insisting Rosario Mendoza knew something."
"Correct."
"And today you suddenly discover her granddaughter working in my house."
"Exactly."
He nodded slowly.
Then asked one simple question.
"Who told you she worked here?"
The confident smile disappeared from Verónica's face.
For the first time...
She hesitated.
"I..."
"...received an anonymous phone call."
"When?"
"This morning."
"What time?"
"Around eight."
Alejandro narrowed his eyes.
"Interesting."
He glanced toward Mauricio.
"Only four people knew Citlali had been assigned to my office today."
Mauricio immediately understood.
His face turned pale.
Someone inside the mansion...
Had informed Verónica.
Someone wanted this confrontation to happen.
Someone had been watching Citlali from the very beginning.
That evening...
Long after everyone had gone home...
Alejandro entered the mansion's private security room.
Rows of surveillance monitors illuminated the darkness.
He rewound the recordings from the previous month.
Hour after hour.
Day after day.
Looking for anything unusual.
At 2:17 a.m., three weeks earlier...
He finally found something.
A shadow moved quietly through the second-floor hallway.
The figure stopped in front of the locked room no employee was ever allowed to enter.
Instead of walking away...
The person removed a key.
Unlocked the forbidden door.
And disappeared inside.
Alejandro leaned closer to the screen.
His pulse began racing.
The security camera never captured the person's face.
But one detail was unmistakable.
The figure was not Citlali.
Not Doña Socorro.
Not any of the servants.
The person wore expensive Italian leather shoes...
The exact same pair Verónica Salazar had been wearing earlier that afternoon.
Alejandro froze.
Why would Verónica secretly enter the one room connected to his dead wife and daughter?
And more importantly...
What had she taken from inside before locking the door again?
For the first time in three years...
Alejandro realized something terrifying.
Maybe the accident at Valle de Bravo had never been an accident.
And perhaps...
May you like
The greatest liar had been standing beside him all along.
End of Chapter 2...
