Chapter 6 - The Enemy Inside the FamilyI read the message again.
Then again.
As if the words would somehow rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.
They didn't.
You need to leave your mother's house before they find you.
My fingers went cold around the phone.
My mother noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
I didn't answer.
I just handed her the screen.
The second she read it, the color drained from her face.
That scared me more than the message itself.
Because my mother was not a woman who frightened easily.
She had walked into the Villalobos mansion alone.
She had faced Carmela.
She had stood in front of thirty people who hated her.
But now, sitting in the safety of her own home, one text message had changed everything.
"Mom?"
She looked toward the windows.
Then toward the front door.
"Pack a bag."
My heart tightened.
"What?"
"Mariana, listen to me."
Her voice was calm, but urgent.
"Pack only what you need."
I stared at her.
"Who sent that?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Then she whispered:
"Someone who knows too much."
A chill moved through me.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we shouldn't stay here."
I looked around the living room.
The small couch.
The old photographs.
The books stacked beside the window.
The place where I grew up.
"Are you serious?"
My mother's expression softened.
"I know this feels impossible."
She reached for my hand.
"But I need you to trust me."
The same sentence she had said my entire childhood.
Trust me.
And I always did.
But this time, there was something different.
This time, I wasn't a child.
This time, I had a baby growing inside me.
And the people we were running from had already hurt me once.
A loud sound interrupted us.
A car door closing outside.
My mother froze.
Not dramatically.
Not like someone in a movie.
Like someone who had spent years learning the difference between ordinary sounds and dangerous ones.
She turned her head slightly.
"Did you call anyone?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Did you tell anyone where we came?"
"No."
Her eyes moved toward the window.
"Then we're already too late."
My stomach dropped.
The baby moved.
A small kick.
A reminder that I couldn't collapse.
Not now.
My mother grabbed her keys.
"Back door."
"Mom—"
"Now."
Something in her voice made me move.
We didn't run.
Running made noise.
We moved quickly and quietly through the kitchen.
My mother opened the back door.
The moment we stepped outside, I heard it.
A car engine.
Not one.
Two.
My mother looked toward the street.
Two black vehicles were parked near the corner.
My breathing stopped.
"Who are they?"
She didn't answer.
And that was the answer.
She took my hand.
"Stay close."
We moved through the narrow alley behind the house.
My mother knew every turn.
Every shortcut.
Every hidden path.
I followed her, trying not to panic.
After several minutes, we reached a small street where an older silver sedan was parked.
I frowned.
"Whose car is that?"
"My friend's."
She unlocked it.
We got inside.
The second the doors locked, my mother started driving.
Only then did I realize something.
She wasn't going toward a hospital.
She wasn't going toward the police.
She was going somewhere else.
Somewhere planned.
"Mom."
She kept her eyes on the road.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Where?"
She was silent.
That silence made me nervous.
"Mom."
Finally, she answered.
"To see your father."
The world stopped.
I turned toward her.
"What?"
She gripped the steering wheel.
"He is the only person who can explain what happened."
I looked out the window.
I didn't know what I felt.
Anger.
Curiosity.
Fear.
All of it mixed together.
"You said he was dangerous."
"I said the people around him were dangerous."
"Then why did you hide him from me?"
My mother swallowed.
"Because when I left him, I thought I was saving you."
I looked at her.
"And now?"
She looked at me.
"Now I think I may have saved you from the wrong thing."
Those words stayed with me.
Because they meant one terrifying possibility.
My entire life could have been built on a lie.
The building where my father lived was nothing like I expected.
I imagined a mansion.
A private estate.
Something connected to the powerful man Carmela feared.
Instead, we stopped in front of a quiet medical facility outside the city.
I stared at the entrance.
"He's here?"
My mother nodded.
"He has been here for years."
My chest tightened.
"Years?"
She looked away.
"I thought he was dead."
The words were painful.
"He disappeared after the attack. Everyone believed..."
She stopped.
I finished the sentence.
"Everyone believed he was gone."
She nodded.
We entered the building.
A nurse at the front desk immediately recognized my mother.
"Lucía."
The nurse looked surprised.
"You came."
My mother nodded.
"How is he?"
The nurse glanced at me.
Then at my stomach.
Then back at my mother.
"Does he know?"
"No."
The nurse sighed.
"Then today is going to change everything."
We walked down a quiet hallway.
My heart pounded harder with every step.
At the end of the hallway was a door.
My mother stopped.
Her hand hovered near the handle.
For the first time since arriving at the mansion, since facing Carmela, since everything happened...
My mother looked afraid.
"Mom?"
She looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
I frowned.
"For what?"
"For making you carry a story that was never yours."
Before I could respond, she opened the door.
The room was simple.
A bed.
A window.
A small table.
And a man sitting beside the window.
His hair was gray.
His body looked thinner than I expected.
But there was something about him.
Something familiar.
The shape of his eyes.
The way he held his hands.
The way he looked up when he heard the door.
His eyes moved to my mother first.
Then to me.
And the second he saw me...
He stopped breathing.
No one spoke.
Not him.
Not my mother.
Not me.
Then his lips moved.
A whisper.
A broken, impossible whisper.
"Mariana?"
My knees almost gave out.
Because I had imagined this moment my entire life.
But never like this.
Never with him looking at me like he had been waiting decades.
I stepped forward slowly.
"How do you know my name?"
A tear rolled down his cheek.
And for the first time, I saw the pain of a father who had lost his daughter.
"I knew the day you were born."
My throat tightened.
"Then why did you leave?"
The question came out sharper than I intended.
His face changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
"I didn't."
I stared at him.
"I looked for you."
My mother closed her eyes.
He continued.
"I searched for you every day."
My hands curled into fists.
"Then why didn't you find us?"
Silence.
A long, painful silence.
Then my father looked toward my mother.
And said something that made my entire body go cold.
"Because the person who hid us from each other was someone you trusted."
My mother looked up.
"What are you saying?"
My father's eyes moved toward me.
"Your mother didn't leave me."
My heart stopped.
"Someone made her believe I was dead."
The room became silent.
"And someone made me believe you were gone."
I felt dizzy.
"Who?"
My father's expression hardened.
A lifetime of pain appeared in his eyes.
"The same person who is protecting the Villalobos family."
My mother's face turned pale.
"No."
My father looked at her.
"Lucía."
His voice was quiet.
"But you already know."
She shook her head.
"Don't say it."
He didn't listen.
He said the name anyway.
The name that connected my past, my marriage, and the attack at the mansion.
"The person who destroyed our family..."
He looked directly at me.
"...was someone from your mother's own bloodline."
My heart stopped.
Because I knew only one person who fit that description.
And my mother whispered the name before I could.
"Gabriel."
My father looked at me.
"No."
A terrible realization crossed his face.
"Not Gabriel."
He took a breath.
"Your grandfather."
And in that moment, I understood.
May you like
The Villalobos family wasn't just connected to my past.
They were connected to the secret my own family had spent decades hiding.
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