Chapter 3 - The Men Hunting Me Already Knew My Name, and One of Them Called Me “Little Mendoza” Before Vargas Shot HimThe attack came fast.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Guards ran through the halls.
Doors slammed.
I crouched behind the desk.
Vargas stood near the window.
Calm.
Too calm.
“Stay here.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Who are they?”
“People who should never know you exist.”
One man entered.
Vargas shot him.
He fell.
Before dying, he looked at me.
“Little Mendoza.”
I froze.
How did he know me?
Vargas stared at the body.
“That's confirmation.”
“Of what?”
“They know.”
“What?”
“That you're alive.”
I didn't understand.
Vargas grabbed the folder.
“Take this.”
“Why?”
“Because if they get it, they can find every person who helped your grandmother.”
I held it.
The attack continued.
We escaped through an underground passage.
At the end was a garage.
One vehicle.
Vargas pushed me inside.
Then a woman appeared.
She was carrying a gun.
“Don't shoot!”
Vargas froze.
I knew her.
From the photograph.
She was beside my grandmother.
It was Lydia.
My grandmother's closest friend.
“You're alive.”
She began crying.
“I've been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandmother asked me to.”
She told us the truth.
My grandmother had discovered a secret organization.
The Mendoza family had been involved.
She escaped.
She took me.
She erased our records.
She staged her death.
But the organization never stopped looking.
Lydia had protected her.
Until she disappeared too.
Vargas asked:
“Who is behind it?”
Lydia whispered:
“Your uncle.”
I froze.
“I don't have an uncle.”
“You do.”
“My father was an only child.”
“That is what they wanted you to believe.”
She showed me a photograph.
Two men.
My father.
And another man.
The second man's face looked like mine.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same scar shape.
I stared.
“Who?”
“Rafael Mendoza.”
“My father's older brother.”
“Alive.”
Vargas looked furious.
“He's back.”
Lydia nodded.
“He wants the family archive.”
“What archive?”
“The one your grandmother hid.”
She looked at me.
“You are the key.”
I felt cold.
“I don't know anything.”
“You don't need to.”
“Then why me?”
“Because your grandmother designed it around your blood.”
I stared at Vargas.
He looked away.
He knew.
Maybe everyone knew.
Except me.
Then Lydia whispered:
“They're coming.”
A convoy appeared on the highway.
Vargas started the engine.
“We need to leave.”
“Where?”
“To the one place Rafael cannot enter.”
I asked:
“Where?”
May you like
Vargas looked at me.
“My brother's grave.”
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