Chapter 3 - THE LOCKED ROOM
The second week at the estate brought a quiet, tender rhythm that the mansion had not known in years.
Under Valeria’s patient care, Mateo began to blossom. He still didn't speak—his vocal cords seemed locked behind a thick wall of trauma—but he no longer screamed. He communicated through touch, tugs on Valeria’s sleeve, and elaborate crayon drawings that covered sheets of white butcher paper in the sunlit playroom.
He drew suns. He drew dogs. He drew a tall, dark figure that Valeria assumed was Alejandro.
And, occasionally, he drew a red car surrounded by dark, chaotic swirls of black wax.
Whenever he drew the red car, Valeria would sit beside him on the floor, rub his back gently, and let him process the dark memory without forcing him to talk.
One afternoon, while Mateo was taking his three o'clock nap in Valeria’s suite under the watchful eye of Doña Socorro, Valeria decided to search for a specific set of wooden building blocks that Marco had mentioned were stored in the old play nursery on the third floor.
The third floor of the north wing was the oldest part of the estate. It was where Alejandro and his late wife, Sofia, had lived before the tragedy. Since the ambush, the entire wing had been closed off, its doors locked and covered in dust.
Valeria walked down the long, carpeted corridor, holding a ring of master brass keys that Marco had given her.
The air up here was cold and smelled of stale lavender and old paper. Heavy sheets covered the hallway furniture like white ghosts.
She found the door to the old nursery. She inserted the brass key, turned the lock, and pushed the door open with a soft creak.
The room was frozen in time. Bright yellow walls, painted murals of jungle animals, a white wooden crib, and shelves filled with stuffed animals that had sat untouched for two years.
Valeria felt a lump form in her throat. She could feel the lingering ghost of a mother’s love in this room—a love that had been violently extinguished on a highway two years ago.
She walked over to the wooden shelving unit near the window, searching for the box of building blocks. As she reached behind a stack of oversized storybooks, her hand brushed against something metallic.
It was a small, heavy black box, hidden behind the books, secured with a digital keypad lock.
Beside the box lay an envelope, partially tucked under a loose wooden floorboard.
Valeria frowned. She reached down and pulled the envelope out.
It was covered in a thick layer of grey dust, but the handwriting on the front was unmistakable—written in elegant, fluid blue ink: To Alejandro, if I do not survive.
Valeria’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. This was a letter written by Sofia Ríos before her death.
Why was it hidden behind books in an abandoned nursery? Why hadn't Alejandro received it?
Before Valeria could open the envelope, a sharp, cold voice echoed from the doorway behind her.
"What are you doing in this room?"
Valeria spun around, dropping the envelope onto the shelf.
Hector Ríos stood in the doorway. He was stripped of his suit jacket, his dark shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. In his hand, he held a heavy crystal tumbler filled with scotch.
His face was flushed, his eyes cold and dangerous.
"I asked you a question, maid," Hector said, taking three slow, deliberate steps into the room. He closed the heavy wooden door behind him with a sharp click.
"I was looking for the wooden building blocks for Mateo," Valeria said, her voice steady despite the ice running through her veins. She stepped sideways, subtly blocking the shelf where the envelope lay. "Marco gave me the keys."
Hector scoffed, looking around the dusty room with profound disdain. "Marco is an old fool who forgets his place. This wing is forbidden. Alejandro gave explicit orders that no one enters this room."
"I didn't know," Valeria lied quietly. "I will leave immediately."
She made a move to walk past him toward the door, but Hector stepped directly into her path, his broad shoulder blocking her way.
Up close, he smelled of stale tobacco, expensive cologne, and high-proof alcohol.
"You think you're very clever, don't you?" Hector sneered, his gaze sliding over her simple clothes and her bare neck with repulsive intensity. "You come in here from the gutter, smile at the little mute brat, play the saint, and suddenly Alejandro treats you like royalty. You think you're going to replace Sofia?"
"I don't want to replace anyone, sir," Valeria said, stepping back, her hazel eyes narrowing. "I am here to take care of a child who was suffering. That's all."
"Lie," Hector spat, stepping closer, crowding her against the wooden shelving unit. "Women like you are all the same. You see a grieving billionaire with a broken boy, and you smell money. You think you can wrap Alejandro around your little finger."
He reached out, his thick, heavy fingers catching her by the chin, forcing her face up.
"Let go of me," Valeria whispered, her voice dropping into a register of cold, terrifying steel that made Hector pause for a fraction of a second.
"Or what?" Hector laughed, his grip tightening until it hurt. "Who are you going to tell? Alejandro? He's my blood. He trusts me with his life and his business. You're a replaceable maid from Santa Catarina whose brother is dying in a public hospital. One word from me to the hospital board, and your brother's surgery gets canceled tomorrow."
Valeria froze. A cold, nauseating horror washed over her. He knew about Diego. He had checked her background.
Hector smiled, a cruel, predatory grin that revealed his sharp teeth.
"You play by my rules in this house, girl," Hector whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. "You clean the boy, you keep him quiet, and you stay out of things that don't concern you. If I see you digging through old rooms again, I won't just fire you. I'll make sure your family starves in the dirt."
He released her chin with a sharp shove that sent her shoulder crashing into the wooden bookshelf behind her.
Valeria stood her ground, her body trembling with rage, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists at her sides. She didn't cry. She didn't bow her head.
Hector gave her one last contemptuous look, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Valeria took a deep, shuddering breath, pressing her hand against her throbbing chin.
May you like
She turned back to the shelf. She grabbed the dust-covered envelope written by Sofia Ríos, shoved it deep inside the inner pocket of her apron, grabbed the box of wooden building blocks from the lower shelf, and walked out of the north wing.
The war for the Ríos estate had officially begun.
