Chapter 2
The detective carefully took Bia’s doll.
Helena struggled against the officer holding her.
“Do not open that!”
Ricardo turned toward her.
“Why are you so afraid of a child’s toy?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then stop screaming.”
The detective opened the small zipper beneath the doll’s dress.
Inside was a folded plastic pouch.
He removed it.
A tiny brass key fell into his palm.
There was also a handwritten note.
Ricardo recognized Camila’s handwriting immediately.
His throat tightened.
The detective unfolded it.
FOR RICARDO ONLY.
“If this is addressed to you, we should document it before you touch it,” the detective said.
Ricardo nodded.
A photograph was taken.
Then the detective handed him the note.
Ricardo read silently.
His face drained of color.
“What does it say?” Bia asked.
He looked at his niece.
Camila had written only four lines.
Ricardo,
If I die before I can leave Helena’s house, use this key at Central Union Bank.
Box 317.
Do not tell Helena.
Ricardo looked toward his aunt.
Helena stopped fighting.
That frightened him more than her screaming.
“You know about the box.”
Helena smiled.
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Your sister filled that little girl’s head with paranoia.”
Bia shouted, “Mommy wasn’t crazy!”
Ricardo rushed to her.
“I know, sweetheart.”
The police separated Helena from the family.
As officers led her toward the chapel exit, she twisted around.
“Ricardo!”
He did not answer.
“Whatever is in that box belongs to this family.”
Ricardo stared at her.
“Camila was family.”
Helena laughed bitterly.
“Camila was a thief.”
Bia flinched.
Ricardo’s anger exploded.
“Take her out.”
The officers continued walking.
But Helena shouted one final sentence.
“Ask your dead sister who Bia’s father really is!”
Bia looked up.
“What?”
Ricardo froze.
The chapel erupted in whispers.
Several relatives turned away awkwardly.
Helena smiled as the police took her outside.
Bia grabbed Ricardo’s hand.
“Uncle Ricardo?”
He crouched.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is my daddy not my daddy?”
Bia’s father, Gabriel, had died in a car accident when Bia was two.
At least that was what Camila had always told everyone.
Ricardo forced himself to remain calm.
“Helena was trying to hurt you.”
“But was she lying?”
Ricardo could not answer.
That evening, after the funeral, he took Bia to his house.
His wife, Sofia, prepared the guest bedroom.
Bia refused to sleep alone.
So Ricardo sat beside her until she finally closed her eyes.
Before falling asleep, she whispered, “Mommy said you were the only person I could trust.”
The words broke him.
At nine the next morning, Ricardo met Detective Alvarez outside Central Union Bank.
The bank manager examined Camila’s paperwork.
Then the brass key.
“Box 317 is registered under Camila Mendes.”
Ricardo’s heart pounded.
“When did she open it?”
The manager checked.
“Eleven months ago.”
They entered the vault.
Box 317 was small.
Ricardo inserted the key.
His hand shook as he pulled it open.
Inside were three envelopes.
A flash drive.
A photograph.
And a sealed laboratory report.
Ricardo picked up the photograph first.
It showed Camila standing beside Helena.
Between them was a man Ricardo had never seen.
On the back, Camila had written:
THE NIGHT HELENA STARTED LYING.
Detective Alvarez opened the first envelope.
Inside were copies of bank transfers.
Large amounts of money had been moved from Camila’s account.
Every payment went to the same company.
H.S. Consulting.
Ricardo looked at Alvarez.
“What is that?”
“We’ll find out.”
Then Ricardo opened the laboratory report.
His eyes stopped on the first line.
PATERNITY PROBABILITY: 99.99%.
He almost dropped it.
Bia’s name was listed as the child.
But the man identified as her biological father was not Gabriel.
Ricardo stared at the name.
“No.”
Detective Alvarez leaned closer.
“What?”
Ricardo could barely speak.
The report identified Bia’s father as someone Ricardo knew very well.
Someone who had attended Camila’s funeral.
Someone who had hugged Bia beside the coffin.
May you like
Ricardo whispered the name.
“Mateo.”
