Chapter 2 - THE FATHER AT THE GATE
I had imagined my father hundreds of times.
When I was five, he was a soldier.
When I was seven, he was a firefighter.
When I was nine, I decided he must have been a man who traveled too much and never knew my mother was pregnant.
By eleven, I stopped imagining him.
Dead people were easier than missing people.
They couldn't choose not to come back.
Now my father stood outside the Vargas estate.
Alive.
Mateo ended the call.
“Do not open the gate.”
I spun toward him.
“What?”
“Aurelio.”
“That’s my father!”
“We don't know what he is anymore.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Rafael moved toward the window.
“Julian has been missing thirteen years.”
“So?”
“So men don't disappear for thirteen years and walk back into San Rosario without a reason.”
“I want to see him.”
“No,” Mateo said.
“You don't get to decide.”
“Right now, I do.”
I hated him for how calm he sounded.
“You told me everything was about keeping me alive.”
“It is.”
“Then maybe he came to protect me.”
“Maybe.”
“Or?”
Mateo met my eyes.
“Maybe he came because whoever killed Esperanza sent him.”
That silenced me.
Security brought up more cameras.
Julian remained outside the gate, hands visible.
He wasn't armed.
At least not visibly.
He sent Mateo a message.
LET ME SEE HIM.
Mateo ignored it.
Another came.
YOU OWE ME THAT.
I looked at him.
“What does he mean?”
Mateo didn't answer.
Rafael did.
“Your father blamed Mateo for Elena's death.”
“Why?”
“Because the Vargas family prevented Julian from leaving the organization when your mother became pregnant.”
Mateo looked annoyed.
“That is an oversimplification.”
“Was he allowed to leave?”
“No.”
“Then it's not.”
Mateo stared at Rafael.
For the first time I realized even powerful men could be challenged by people who had known them before everyone else became afraid.
I pointed toward the monitor.
“Let him in.”
Mateo studied me.
“If he makes one wrong move, you stay behind me.”
I almost said I didn't need protection.
Then I remembered Esperanza lying dead in our apartment while strangers told me her heart had simply stopped.
I nodded.
The gates opened.
Julian walked alone up the long driveway.
With every step, something inside me tightened.
He looked nothing like the imaginary fathers I had created.
He looked tired.
His coat was old.
His shoes were muddy.
The scar across his brow was deeper in person.
When he entered the foyer, nobody spoke.
Then he saw me.
His face broke.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
His mouth opened, but no sound came.
He stared at my hair.
My nose.
My eyes.
Then he whispered:
“Elena.”
My throat tightened.
“I'm Aurelio.”
He nodded quickly.
“I know.”
“You thought I was dead?”
He looked at Mateo.
“No.”
Mateo's posture changed.
“What?”
Julian kept looking at me.
“I knew Esperanza saved him.”
Mateo stepped forward.
“How?”
“Because she told me.”
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
Rafael swore.
Mateo's voice went cold.
“You had contact with Esperanza?”
“For one night.”
“After your car burned?”
“Yes.”
“Then where the hell have you been?”
Julian finally looked at him.
“Trying not to lead your family to my son.”
I felt anger building again.
“You knew I was alive.”
He turned toward me.
“Yes.”
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never came?”
His eyes filled with something I didn't want to recognize.
Shame.
“If I came near you, they would have known.”
“Who?”
He looked toward Mateo.
“The man who ordered Elena killed.”
Mateo went still.
“My mother died having me.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“She survived the delivery.”
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
“She held you.”
“No.”
“She named you.”
I backed away.
“You're lying.”
“She lived for eleven hours after you were born.”
Mateo stared at Julian.
“We were told she hemorrhaged during delivery.”
“She did.”
Julian's voice shook.
“But doctors stabilized her.”
I heard myself whisper.
“Then what happened?”
Julian looked at me.
“Someone came into her hospital room after midnight.”
Silence.
“He injected medication into her IV.”
My hands went cold.
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there.”
I stared.
Julian touched the scar on his face.
“I tried to stop him.”
The room blurred around me.
“What happened?”
“They hit me from behind.”
His fingers touched the scar again.
“When I woke up, Elena was dead.”
I couldn't speak.
“Esperanza took you through a service elevator. She knew whoever killed Elena would come for you next.”
“And you?”
“I followed.”
“What about the burned car?”
“I staged it.”
Mateo stared.
“You staged your own death?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you come to me?”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“Because someone inside your house ordered the murder.”
Mateo froze.
“Who?”
“I didn't know.”
“Then why blame me?”
“Because only four people knew which hospital Elena used.”
He started counting.
“My father Gabriel.”
“Dead by then,” Rafael said.
“Yes.”
“Esperanza.”
“She saved Aurelio.”
“Yes.”
“Myself.”
Julian looked at Mateo.
“And you.”
The room became very still.
I looked at Mateo.
“You knew where my mother was?”
He nodded once.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.”
Julian stepped closer.
“Someone did.”
Mateo's anger sharpened.
“You spent thirteen years believing I killed Elena?”
“I spent thirteen years believing I couldn't prove you didn't.”
I didn't know which was worse.
Julian opened his coat slowly.
Guards moved.
He stopped.
“Relax.”
He removed a worn leather notebook.
“I didn't spend thirteen years hiding.”
He set it on the table.
“I spent thirteen years following the money.”
Mateo picked it up.
Pages were filled with names, dates, companies, bank transfers, photographs.
Julian pointed to one symbol repeated beside dozens of entries.
A black cross inside a circle.
“What is that?” I asked.
Mateo answered.
“The old Vargas council seal.”
Julian nodded.
“After Gabriel died, five men governed the organization until Mateo took control.”
Mateo's face hardened.
“Three are dead.”
“Two aren't.”
Rafael whispered their names.
“Esteban Vargas.”
Mateo's uncle.
“And Hector Salazar.”
Mateo's longtime attorney.
I had heard Salazar's name on television.
He represented politicians, athletes, and businessmen.
Julian flipped to another page.
“Both had accounts connected to the hospital where Elena died.”
Mateo looked at him.
“Proof?”
“Not enough.”
“After thirteen years?”
“Every witness disappeared.”
Mateo looked toward me.
“Esperanza?”
Julian's expression changed.
“She was my last witness.”
I understood.
“That's why they killed her.”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
Julian looked at me.
“Because three months ago, Esperanza contacted me.”
My heart pounded.
“What did she say?”
“She said someone had found the original birth record.”
Mateo stiffened.
“What original birth record?”
Julian looked toward him.
“The one proving Aurelio is Gabriel Vargas's grandson.”
Mateo frowned.
“So?”
Julian laughed without humor.
“So your father changed the Vargas succession rules after Gabriel died.”
Rafael closed his eyes as if he'd just remembered something awful.
Mateo's face changed.
“What rules?”
Julian looked surprised.
“You really don't know.”
“Know what?”
Julian opened the notebook to an old photocopied document.
At the top:
VARGAS FAMILY SUCCESSION DECLARATION.
Mateo read.
Then his jaw tightened.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
I walked toward him.
“Mateo.”
He looked at me.
“After Gabriel's death, my father declared that leadership and controlling family assets would pass through Gabriel's direct bloodline if a legitimate male descendant survived.”
I blinked.
“So?”
Julian said quietly:
“So if you're alive, Aurelio…”
He looked at Mateo.
“…Mateo isn't the legal head of the Vargas family.”
I stared at him.
Then laughed because the idea was ridiculous.
“I'm twelve.”
“It doesn't matter,” Julian said.
“It matters to me!”
Mateo closed the document.
“This is why Esperanza hid him.”
Julian nodded.
“And why someone killed Elena.”
I started pacing.
“I don't want any of this.”
“No one asked whether you wanted it,” Julian said.
“That's the problem!”
I shouted louder than I meant to.
“Everybody keeps deciding things about my life without asking me!”
The room went silent.
Julian looked wounded.
Good.
Mateo looked toward the floor.
Even better.
I pointed at Julian.
“You knew I was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You let Grandma raise me alone.”
“Yes.”
“You let me think my mother died giving birth.”
“Yes.”
“You let me sleep outside for three months after she died.”
Julian's face crumpled.
“I didn't know Esperanza was dead until two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“She stopped contacting me.”
“And you didn't check?”
“I couldn't.”
“You could have.”
“Aurelio—”
“You were my father!”
The words echoed.
Julian took a step toward me.
I backed away.
“No.”
He stopped.
I hated myself for crying.
“I would have taken being poor.”
My voice broke.
“I would have taken hiding.”
Julian's eyes filled.
“I would have taken anything if someone had just told me I had a father.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
I ran upstairs.
Nobody stopped me.
I found an empty bedroom and locked the door.
For the first time since Esperanza died, I cried until my chest hurt.
Hours later, someone knocked.
Not Mateo.
Not Julian.
Rafael.
“May I come in?”
I didn't answer.
He sat outside anyway.
“Your grandmother used to throw wooden spoons at me.”
I wiped my face.
“What?”
“She had excellent aim.”
I almost laughed.
“She told me once that the Vargas men had two problems.”
I waited.
“We thought money made us intelligent.”
A pause.
“And we thought silence made us strong.”
I opened the door.
Rafael sat on the hallway floor.
He held an envelope.
“What is that?”
“Esperanza left it with me fourteen years ago.”
I stared.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“She told me to wait.”
“Until when?”
Rafael looked toward the stairwell.
“Until Julian returned.”
My heart stopped.
He handed me the envelope.
On the front, in Esperanza's handwriting:
FOR AURELIO.
WHEN THE DEAD COME HOME.
Inside was a single photograph.
A newborn baby.
My mother holding him.
Me.
Julian stood beside the hospital bed.
Esperanza stood behind them.
But someone else was in the photograph.
A man in a doctor's coat.
His face was reflected faintly in the window.
Rafael stared.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He took the picture.
“Oh God.”
“Who is he?”
Rafael looked at me.
“That man wasn't just at the hospital.”
He swallowed.
“He was the Vargas family doctor.”
I waited.
Rafael whispered his name.
“Dr. Hector Salazar.”
I frowned.
“You said Hector Salazar is an attorney.”
Rafael shook his head.
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“The attorney is his younger brother.”
And suddenly, the conspiracy had two Salazars.
May you like
One had stood beside my mother hours before she died.
The other still sat at Mateo Vargas's right hand.
