The dimple in his cheek.
And then a memory struck like lightning upon his weary mind.
Years ago, amid corporate meetings and toasts, there was a brief romance at a company event.
A discreet, kind, quiet woman who smiled without asking for anything.
Maria.
Sebastian’s heart thundered inside his chest, as if his body knew the truth before his mind.
He hired a private investigator he trusted, Hector Lupa, and gave him a single order: find Maria, without notifying anyone.
In twenty-four hours, everything fell apart.
Maria hadn’t been fired, she had been erased from the company’s records the same day Lucas was taken away.
Even worse, Elea made regular payments to a private psychiatric center called San Aurelio Retreat, notorious for hiding “inconvenient” people.
The final blow came quickly, mercilessly, like a truth that asks no permission.
The DNA confirmed it.
Alma was his daughter.
And his son had been getting lost in the world while he slept between silk sheets.
The rage that consumed him was cold and focused, like a knife that does not tremble.
His mother had destroyed lives to protect her public image before the company went public, sacrificing blood for profit.
And then came the confirmation from Alma’s mouth, when Elea’s head of security, Morales, appeared with rehearsed excuses.
Upon seeing him, Alma screamed in terror, backing away as if the air had turned to poison.
“That man!” she shrieked. “He took my mother! He was with the fake doctors!”
At that moment, Sebastian knew there was nothing to wait for, because slow justice also kills.
That night, Sebastian, Hector, and Alma, as their guide, went towards San Aurelio under the cover of darkness.
The clinic looked luxurious on the outside, but inside it was a cage, and the smell of disinfectant hid something worse.
Bribes opened doors.
The threats silenced the staff.
The corridors were too bright, as if the light were part of the punishment.
In room 207, horror was sitting by a window.
Maria remained motionless, pale, hollow, with a lost gaze, as if the silk of the sheets had seeped into her mind.
—Maria… —Sebastian whispered, and his voice came out broken, as if it hadn’t been used for anything that mattered in years.
There was no response, only the distant, indifferent, constant sound of an air conditioner.
Then Alma ran towards her.
“Mommy!” she cried. “It’s me, your little star!”
The fog shattered like glass in the sun.
Maria’s eyes filled with tears and focused first on her daughter, and then on Sebastian, as if the world were returning in pieces.
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