Chapter 2 - The Granddaughter I Never Knew Existed
We left the hospital under police protection.
I couldn't stop staring at the photograph.
Sofia.
My granddaughter.
Four years old.
I had missed every birthday.
Every first day of school.
Every scraped knee.
Every bedtime story.
I hadn't even known she existed.
The deputy, whose name was Marcus Hill, drove us toward the address Mariana had found.
“Tell me everything,” I said.
Mariana sat beside me in the back seat.
She looked exhausted.
“I met Rodrigo when I was twenty-three.”
“I remember.”
“You were kind to me.”
I swallowed.
“I should have stayed.”
She looked down.
“After you left for Spain, Rodrigo changed.”
“How?”
“He became obsessed with the ranch.”
“My husband's ranch.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
That word didn't surprise me.
My late husband, Alejandro, had built the ranch from nothing.
When he died, the property was worth millions.
I had left it to Rodrigo because I believed he would protect it.
I was wrong.
Mariana continued.
“Rodrigo started borrowing money.”
“For what?”
“Gambling.”
My stomach tightened.
“He lost money at first.”
“How much?”
“Almost $400,000.”
I stared.
“Then he started selling equipment.”
“That explains the empty barns.”
She nodded.
“He told me to sign loans.”
“I refused.”
“So he became violent.”
My hands clenched.
“Did he ever hit you?”
“Yes.”
The deputy looked at us through the mirror.
“We'll need that statement formally.”
Mariana nodded.
“Then Sofia was born.”
Her voice softened.
“She was the only reason I stayed.”
“What happened to her?”
“Rodrigo became angry when she got older.”
“Why?”
“She looked like me.”
I didn't understand.
“He said every time he looked at her, he remembered that I was his wife.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
She wiped her eyes.
“He started locking her in the tack room when he got angry.”
I felt sick.
“How long?”
“Sometimes hours.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where were you?”
“Locked in the chicken coop.”
The deputy's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Why didn't you call the police?”
“He took my phone.”
“Neighbors?”
“There aren't many.”
“Workers?”
“Rodrigo fired almost everyone.”
That explained the empty ranch.
He had isolated them.
Completely.
Then Mariana whispered:
“Three months ago, Sofia disappeared.”
“What did Rodrigo say?”
“He said he sent her away.”
“To whom?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
We reached the address.
It was an old farmhouse surrounded by trees.
The deputies approached first.
A woman opened the door.
She was elderly.
She looked frightened.
“Are you Mrs. Collins?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know a child named Sofia Mendoza?”
The woman's face changed.
Then she stepped aside.
A little girl appeared behind her.
Pink sweater.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
She stared at me.
I couldn't move.
Mariana screamed.
“Sofia!”
The little girl ran.
She threw herself into her mother's arms.
Mariana collapsed onto her knees.
They held each other and cried.
I stood there shaking.
My granddaughter looked at me.
“Are you Grandma?”
I couldn't speak.
I nodded.
She smiled.
Then whispered:
“Mommy said you were nice.”
I fell apart.
I hugged her carefully.
For eight years, I'd thought I had lost my son.
Instead, I'd lost an entire family.
Mrs. Collins explained everything.
Rodrigo had left Sofia there three months earlier.
He paid cash.
He told her he was traveling.
But he'd never returned.
“Why didn't you report him?”
She looked ashamed.
“He threatened me.”
“With what?”
She looked at Sofia.
“He said he'd hurt the child's mother.”
Mariana looked at me.
“Now you understand why I stayed.”
I did.
And I hated myself for not knowing.
Then Deputy Hill's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
He looked at me.
“Mrs. Mendoza, we need to go back to the ranch.”
“Why?”
“Your son knows we found Sofia.”
“How?”
“He just called 911.”
“What did he say?”
The deputy hesitated.
“He says Mariana kidnapped the child.”
I stared.
“He's lying.”
“I know.”
Then the deputy added:
“He also says he has evidence that Mariana killed your unborn child.”
My heart stopped.
Mariana's face went white.
Because suddenly, I understood.
Rodrigo wasn't trying to escape responsibility.
He was building a story.
May you like
A story where Mariana was the monster.
And he was the victim.
