Chapter 2 - WHAT THE BLANKET HAD HIDDEN
Alejandro stared at his wife’s body, unable to breathe.
Dark purple bruises covered Valeria’s thighs and lower back. Small red puncture marks formed a horrifying line along her left hip. Around one ankle was a raw, circular wound, as though something had been tied tightly around it.
But what terrified him most was the blood.
A thin stain had spread across the pale blue sheet beneath her.
Valeria immediately pulled her nightgown down, trembling with humiliation.
Alejandro released the blanket as if it had burned him.
“What happened to you?”
She turned her face toward the wall.
“You already decided what happened.”
His voice cracked.
“Valeria, look at me.”
When she finally did, the expression in her eyes was not guilt.
It was betrayal.
“Your mother said they were vitamin injections,” she whispered. “She said the doctor had prescribed them because the baby was weak.”
Alejandro’s face went still.
“What doctor?”
“I never saw his face. Marcela brought him through the service entrance whenever you were away.”
Alejandro remembered the photograph on his phone.
The mysterious silhouette leaving the house at two in the morning.
It had never been Valeria’s lover.
It had been the man hurting her.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I tried.”
She reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a cracked phone.
The screen was black.
“Your mother took my charger. Marcela changed the security code. The housekeepers were ordered not to enter this room unless Esther was present.”
Alejandro shook his head.
“No. My staff would never—”
“They were told I was mentally unstable.”
Valeria’s hand moved protectively over her stomach.
“Three nights ago, I woke up during one of the injections. I heard your mother telling Marcela that the dosage was not working fast enough.”
Alejandro felt the room tilt beneath him.
“Working fast enough for what?”
Valeria’s lips trembled.
“To make me lose the baby.”
The words struck him harder than any physical blow.
He stumbled backward, catching himself against the dresser.
“That’s impossible.”
“You thought I had a lover five minutes ago.”
Her quiet reply sliced through him.
“You believed one blurry photograph before you believed your wife.”
Alejandro had no answer.
A sudden pain crossed Valeria’s face. She gasped, clutching her abdomen.
“Alejandro…”
He rushed toward her.
“What is it?”
“The pain is getting worse.”
Before he could reach for his phone, the bedroom door opened.
Doña Esther stood in the hallway wearing an elegant cream-colored suit. Marcela appeared behind her, her face perfectly composed.
Esther surveyed the bloodstained sheet without the slightest sign of surprise.
Then she looked at Alejandro.
“Step away from her,” she ordered calmly. “Your wife is having another one of her episodes.”
Alejandro slowly turned toward his mother.
“What injections did you give her?”
For the first time, Esther’s composure slipped.
Only for a second.
But Alejandro saw it.
Marcela stepped forward.
“Brother, she is manipulating you. She did this to herself because she knew you had discovered the affair.”
Valeria began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
She simply closed her eyes while silent tears slid down her pale cheeks.
Alejandro looked from his wife to his mother and sister.
Then he noticed something in Esther’s hand.
A small medical case.
The same kind of case Alejandro had seen beside Valeria’s bed during his last three business trips.
His rage disappeared.
What replaced it was colder.
“Open the case,” he said.
Esther tightened her grip.
“You are confused.”
“Open it.”
“Alejandro, listen to your mother.”
He crossed the room and took the case from her.
Esther tried to stop him.
That was all the confirmation he needed.
Inside were syringes, unlabeled glass vials and a roll of surgical tape.
Beneath them lay a folded document.
Alejandro pulled it out.
It was a psychiatric commitment form declaring Valeria mentally incompetent.
At the bottom was a signature authorizing her transfer to a private facility.
His signature.
May you like
Perfectly forged.
And the transfer was scheduled for that morning.
