Chapter 3 - The Truth About Lucía Was More Dangerous Than Her GiftI didn't sleep that night.
Neither did security.
The black sedan disappeared before sunrise.
But it left something behind.
A photograph.
It had been pushed underneath the gate.
I picked it up.
The picture showed Lucía sitting outside a hospital.
She was younger.
Perhaps three years old.
Beside her stood a woman I had never seen.
My heart stopped.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE KNOWS WHY YOU'RE BROKEN.
I stared at the words.
Then at Lucía.
She was five.
How could she possibly know what happened to me?
I waited until she arrived.
When she did, she saw the photograph immediately.
Her face changed.
“Who is that?”
I showed it to her.
She looked at the woman.
“My mamá.”
I swallowed.
“You remember her?”
“A little.”
“Is she alive?”
Lucía stared at the photograph.
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me to find you.”
My entire body went cold.
“She told you to find me?”
Lucía nodded.
“Before she disappeared.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
The girl held up five fingers.
“Five years.”
Five years.
The same amount of time since my accident.
I stared at her.
“Lucía, why me?”
“She said you would need help.”
“What kind?”
“Walking.”
I felt the room close around me.
“How did she know?”
“She saw you.”
“When?”
Lucía frowned.
“At the hospital.”
I remembered nothing.
Five years ago, after the accident, I had spent months in hospitals.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Visitors.
People came and went.
Could I have crossed paths with her?
I asked:
“Do you know her name?”
Lucía nodded.
“Sofía.”
The name hit something in my memory.
Sofía Morales.
I had heard it before.
I searched my old files.
Nothing.
Then I found an archived newspaper article.
MISSING RESEARCH NURSE DISAPPEARS AFTER PRIVATE CLINIC INCIDENT.
Sofía Morales.
Former nurse.
Specialized in neurological rehabilitation.
Last seen five years ago.
The same year as my accident.
The article said she had vanished after reporting irregularities in patient treatment.
I looked at Lucía.
“Did your mother work with my doctors?”
“She helped people.”
“Where?”
She pointed to my medical file.
“This place.”
The clinic where I had received my final surgery.
My blood ran cold.
That meant something was terribly wrong.
I contacted my old surgeon.
He agreed to meet us.
When I showed him the photograph of Sofía, he went pale.
“You know her.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
He stared at the table.
“She discovered something.”
“What?”
“Your accident wasn't exactly an accident.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Explain.”
The surgeon whispered:
“Your brakes were tampered with.”
Silence.
I knew the police report had said brake failure caused the crash.
But no one had ever told me it was sabotage.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because your brother was driving.”
I froze.
“My brother wasn't driving.”
The surgeon looked confused.
“That's what the report said.”
“No.”
I stared.
“My brother was in the passenger seat.”
He swallowed.
“Then someone falsified the report.”
I stood.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Who signed it?”
He handed me the document.
At the bottom was an unfamiliar signature.
Dr. Adrian Vega.
I knew that name.
He had been the medical director of the rehabilitation center where I spent six months.
I called him.
No answer.
I searched his records.
Gone.
His home had been sold.
His clinic closed.
His license had been revoked two years earlier.
Reason:
Medical misconduct.
I looked at Lucía.
She was playing with her white stone.
“What does your stone do?”
She smiled.
“Reminds me.”
“Of what?”
“My mother.”
“Where did she get it?”
“She gave it to me.”
“What did she say?”
Lucía's expression became serious.
“She said when I find the broken man, I have to help him.”
I felt a lump in my throat.
“Why?”
“Because if he stands, bad people lose.”
Those words frightened me.
“Who are the bad people?”
Lucía shook her head.
“Mom said I mustn't say.”
“Why?”
“Because they listen.”
The lights flickered.
Security rushed into the room.
“Mr. Romero.”
“What?”
“We have a breach.”
I grabbed Lucía's hand.
“Where?”
“East gate.”
The clinic doors locked automatically.
We heard shouting.
Then gunfire.
I pulled Lucía behind me.
My wheelchair felt suddenly useless.
I hated that feeling.
But then my right foot tingled.
I stared down.
It moved.
Tiny.
But enough.
I pushed my hands against the chair.
For the first time, I tried to stand.
Pain exploded through my legs.
I nearly fell.
Lucía grabbed my hand.
“Not yet.”
“I'm trying.”
“Your body is scared.”
“Of what?”
“Remembering.”
I looked at her.
She wasn't afraid.
“Help me.”
She placed both hands against my knees.
“Don't fight.”
I breathed.
She whispered:
“Left.”
My left leg trembled.
“Right.”
My right leg responded.
I stood.
For three seconds.
Maybe four.
Then I fell.
Two nurses rushed forward.
But I was laughing.
I was actually laughing.
Five years after being told I would never stand.
I had stood.
Even if it was only for seconds.
Gunfire continued in the hallway.
Then the security chief shouted:
“It's clear.”
The attackers had escaped.
But they left a message.
Spray-painted on the wall:
PUT THE GIRL BACK WHERE SHE BELONGS.
I stared.
Lucía looked down.
She was crying.
“Where do you belong?”
“With you,” she whispered.
My chest tightened.
I crouched as low as I could.
“Then no one is taking you.”
That was the moment I made my decision.
Whatever Lucía was involved in, I would protect her.
Whatever happened to her mother, I would find out.
And whoever had tried to kill me five years ago would be brought to the surface.
May you like
But I did not yet know that the man behind everything had been watching my family long before my accident.
And his next move would involve the one person I had never expected to betray me.
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