Hidalgo, 1983: The MOTHER who gave her son as her sister’s husband to save her soul

The Los Eninos estate stood like a monument to oblivion on the outskirts of Durango. Its stone walls, witnesses to generations of the Montero family, held secrets that the wind did not dare to whisper. It was the summer of 1984 and the scorching July heat seemed to melt even the shadows.

Don Esteban Montero contemplated his empire from the main corridor. The vast lands that stretched as far as the eye could see had belonged to the hunters since colonial times, always passing from father to son, never to a woman. And therein lay his torment.

Life had given him two daughters, Lucía and Carmen. His wife, Doña Mercedes, had died years earlier during a failed childbirth from which the longed-for son would have been born. Since then, Don Esteban’s obsession with having an heir to perpetuate the Montero surname had become an illness that corroded his mind day after day.

He called me father. Lucia’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Tall and dark-haired, she was the spitting image of her mother. Yes, daughter, sit down, he ordered, pointing to the chair in front of him. His tone brooked no argument. I have made a decision about the future of this estate.

Lucia sat down tensely. His father’s decisions rarely brought anything good. Have you also summoned Carmen? she asked, noticing her sister’s absence. She will come later. This is something I need to talk to you about first, as the eldest.

The old man took a crumpled letter from his pocket and placed it on the wooden table. Dr. Fuentes has confirmed what I already knew. I have less than 6 months to live. Lucia paled. Despite her father’s despotic nature, the news hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Father, we can look for other doctors, perhaps in Mexico City. Silence. Don Esteban’s fist slammed on the table. Don’t interrupt me. Time is running out and I cannot die without ensuring that a male hunter inherits these lands.

A shiver ran down Lucia’s spine when she saw the feverish look in her father’s eyes. I have spoken with the notary. If I die without a male heir, the lands will pass to my nephew Augusto, my brother’s son, a spendthrift, a drunkard who would sell this estate for pennies.

Outside, the sky began to darken. A storm was approaching as a harbinger of what was to come. You and Carmen are my blood, he continued. But they are women. And a woman paused. His eyes fixed on her with contempt. A woman is only good for giving birth to children who perpetuate the lineage.

Lucia felt the air become heavy, unbreathable. I have found the solution, said Don Esteban with a smile that chilled Lucia’s blood. I have hired a young, strong man of good lineage. It will arrive tomorrow. You and Carmen will take turns in your bed until one of you gets pregnant with a boy.

The room seemed to spin around Lucia. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. You’re crazy, he muttered, unable to contain himself. The slap came so fast that he barely had time to feel it before falling to the ground. Don’t disrespect me, roared Don Esteban, standing up. I am your father and you will do as I command. This land has belonged to the hunters for centuries and so it will continue to be.

Lucia, her cheek burning, slowly sat up. Now go find your sister, the old man ordered, sitting down again. And remember, my daughter, if you try to escape or disobey me, there are places in these mountains where no one would ever find your remains.

The first drop of rain hit the window as Lucia left the room on trembling legs, aware that she had just entered a nightmare from which there was no escape. The dawn of the next day brought with it a clear sky that contrasted with the darkness that had settled in the heart of the Los Eninos estate.

Lucia had not been able to sleep. After telling Carmen about her father’s plans, they both cried in each other’s arms, searching in vain for a way out of their situation. We could run away, Carmen had suggested through tears. Where to? Lucia replied. We have no money. We don’t know anyone outside of Durango. He’d find us, and you know what would happen then.

The rumors about Don Esteban’s cruelty were not unfounded. It was said that years ago a farmhand who had tried to steal some cattle had disappeared without a trace. No one had dared to report his absence. At midday, the sound of a vehicle approaching the ranch alerted the sisters.

From their bedroom window, they watched a black van arrive. Don Esteban was already waiting at the doorway, standing upright like a sentinel. A young man, perhaps around 30 years old, tall and of strong build, got out of the vehicle. He was wearing a suit that looked expensive, but uncomfortable in the Durango heat. He was carrying a briefcase in his right hand.

There it is, Carmen murmured, clinging to her sister’s arm. The man whom father has brought. Lucía watched the stranger shake her father’s hand. There was something about his bearing, the way he moved, that seemed vaguely familiar to him.

Let’s go, said Lucia, turning away from the window. Father will want us to come down and introduce ourselves. The sisters dressed up as best they could, knowing they were facing the instrument of their degradation. When they went down to the main hall, Don Esteban and the newcomer were chatting animatedly like old friends.

Ah, here are my daughters, Don Esteban announced upon seeing them. Lucía, Carmen, I present to you Dr. Javier Fuentes. The name hit Lucia like a bucket of cold water. Fuentes, like the doctor who had diagnosed his father. It’s a pleasure to meet you, the man said, bowing slightly. His voice was soft, polite, with a hint of a capital city accent. Your father has told me a lot about you.

Dr. Fuentes is my doctor’s son, Don Esteban explained, noticing the confusion on Lucía’s face. He studied abroad and recently returned to Mexico. He’ll be living with us for a while. The smile that accompanied these last words made Lucía’s stomach churn.

The doctor will help us with a very important family matter, Don Esteban continued. I expect you to treat him with the respect he deserves. Javier Fuentes maintained his amiable expression, but Lucía could see a flicker of something, discomfort and guilt, in his eyes when they met hers.

Rosita will show you his room, Doctor, Don Esteban said, calling for the elderly housekeeper who had served the family for decades. We’ll have dinner together tonight to discuss the details of our agreement. As Dr. Fuentes followed Rosita down the hall, Lucía felt her father’s hand tighten on her shoulder.

Tonight you’ll be first, he whispered in her ear. Don’t disappoint me. The rest of the day passed as if time had stood still. Lucía tried to distract herself with his usual chores. He helped in the kitchen, reviewed the hacienda’s accounting books, a task his father had entrusted to him because of his aptitude for numbers, and even sought solace in the small family chapel.

But his thoughts inevitably returned to what would happen that night. During dinner, Don Esteban dominated the conversation, speaking enthusiastically about the history of the hacienda, the riches it held, and the importance of keeping it in the hands of a landowner. Dr. Fuentes nodded politely, occasionally interjecting with courteous questions. The sisters barely touched their plates.

As I explained to you this morning, Don Esteban said when dinner was over, Dr. Fuentes has come to help us secure the future of the oak trees. In return, he will receive generous financial compensation. Javier Fuentes had the decency to lower his gaze at these words.

Lucía, the old man continued, you will escort the doctor to his room tonight. I expect you to be hospitable. The silence that followed was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Don Esteban intervened. That’s it, Dr. Fuentes. Perhaps we should give the young ladies more time, time is the one thing I don’t have, Doctor, exclaimed Don Esteban, banging his fist on the table. You have accepted my offer, and you will be well paid. Now fulfill your part of the bargain.

Lucía rose mechanically from the table. Her eyes met Carmen’s, who regarded her with a mixture of terror and pity. I’ll wait for you in your room, Doctor, she said in a barely audible voice before leaving the dining room with what little dignity she could muster. As she climbed the stairs toward the guest room hallway, Lucia felt that each step brought her closer to an abyss from which she could never return.

The room assigned to Dr. Fuentes was the largest of those designated for guests. In better times it had housed politicians, those promoted to the elite, and even a governor. Now its walls would witness something far more sinister. Lucia waited sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap to hide her trembling. The wall clock read 11 pm when he heard footsteps approaching down the hall.

The door opened slowly and Dr. Fuentes entered, closing it behind him. He was holding a glass of cognac in his hand and his face reflected a discomfort that he had not shown during dinner. Miss Lucia, she said in a low voice, I want you to know that I completely understand if you don’t want how much my father is paying you, she interrupted with a harshness that arose from fear.

Javier Fuentes lowered his gaze in embarrassment. Enough to establish my own clinic in Mexico City, he admitted. But money isn’t everything. I don’t want to be part of something that my father is a powerful man, Doctor, Lucía said, standing up. If you refuse now, he’ll find someone else who doesn’t have your scruples, and who knows what kind of man that would be.

A heavy silence fell between them. Outside, the wind had begun to blow, swaying the branches of the incense trees that gave the hacienda its name. There’s something you should know, Lucía continued, going to the window to look into the darkness outside. My father is obsessed with having a male heir, but it’s not just because of tradition or the family name, it’s because of the curse.

Curse. The doctor looked at her curiously. That’s what he believes. According to my father, generations ago, one of the Montero family did something terrible to an indigenous woman. Before she died, she cursed the family. No Montero woman could be happy as long as the surname existed.

Lucia turned to look at him directly. My mother died when I was 13 years old. She was pregnant with a boy. It was the fifth pregnancy that ended in tragedy. The previous four were also male. Dr. Fuentes took a sip of his cognac, processing the information. That’s not a curse, Miss Lucia. There are medical explanations for it.

I know, she interrupted, but my father is a man from another time. He believes that if he can get a stranger to father a son with one of his daughters, the curse will not affect the child, because he will not be conceived by a huntsman. Javier placed the glass on a small table and ran his hand through his hair, visibly disturbed.

This is madness, he muttered. It’s our reality, Lucía replied bitterly. Carmen and I grew up watching our father become an obsessive tyrant. After my mother died, he began to isolate us, took us out of school in Durango, and hired tutors to educate us here on the hacienda. Our only company has been the ranch hands and their families, who barely dare look at us for fear of my father.

Why are you telling me all this? the doctor asked. Because I want you to understand who you’re dealing with. If you don’t do what my father expects, he’ll find a way to punish us all. A noise in the hallway startled them. Heavy footsteps stopped in front of the door. Lucía immediately recognized her father’s gait.

He’s watching, she whispered, quickly approaching the doctor. He’ll hear us if we don’t. Before she could finish the sentence, Lucía began unbuttoning her dress with trembling fingers. Javier Fuentes stopped her hands, shaking his head. No, he said softly. No. He went to the door and banged hard on it from the inside.

Don Esteban, he called. I know you’re there. I’d like to speak with you. Silence from the other end was the only response. Don Esteban, the doctor insisted. I understand your concern, but this isn’t the way. If you’ll allow me, there are modern medical methods that could…

The sound of a shotgun being cocked cut him off. You have until I count to 10, Doctor. Don Esteban’s voice sounded strangely calm on the other side of the door. If by then I don’t hear what must be happening in that room, I assure you that neither your title nor your surname will do you any good.

Lucía paled. She knew her father too well to know that this wasn’t an empty threat. One, Don Esteban began to count. Javier Fuentes turned to Lucía. His eyes reflected a mixture of panic and resolve. Two. There’s a way out, Lucía whispered, moving closer to the doctor. The maid’s quarters connect to this one via a passageway. We can pretend to hear what he wants to hear and then seek help.

Three? Will it work? Javier asked skeptically. Four, it’s our only option, she replied. Five. Lucia approached the bed and began rhythmically banging it against the wall, while emitting moans that she hoped sounded convincing. Six. Don Esteban’s voice stopped for a moment, listening to the sounds from inside the room.

Javier understood the plan and joined in the charade, adding his own grunts to the macabre theater they were putting on. Don Esteban’s footsteps finally faded away down the hallway. We’ll wait an hour, Lucia whispered, stopping the pantomime. Then we’ll use the passageway to get to the kitchen. We can take Rosita’s truck. She keeps the keys in a drawer next to the stove.

For the first time since arriving at the hacienda, Javier Fuentes smiled. You’re more astute than your father thinks, she said. He has underestimated his daughters all their lives, Lucia replied. That will be their final mistake. As they waited silently for the hour to pass, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room through the half-open curtains. The approaching storm seemed to herald that something was about to change forever that night at the Los Encinos ranch.

The hour of waiting felt like an eternity. Every creak of the old house, every gust of wind that hit the windows, pushed Lucia and Dr. Fuentes’ nerves to the limit. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, Lucia quietly got up from the edge of the bed, where they had been sitting in silence.

It’s time, she whispered, heading towards a large, dark wooden wardrobe that took up almost an entire wall of the room. She opened the carved doors and moved aside the suits and shirts hanging inside. At the back, almost invisible in the dim light, she could make out the outline of a small door.

The passageways were built during the revolution, Lucía explained in a low voice as she searched for the mechanism to open it. My great-grandfather had these made to hide the family in case the revolutionaries attacked the hacienda. Her fingers found a small crack in the wood and she pulled it open.

With a deafening screech in the silence of the night, the door opened, revealing a narrow, dark corridor. We don’t have any light, Javier lamented, peering into the passageway. I know the way, Lucía replied. Carmen and I used to play here when we were children. Follow me and don’t make a sound.

The tunnel was narrow and low, forcing them to walk slightly hunched over. The smell of dampness and confinement was suffocating. Lucía guided the way, sliding her hand along the stone wall to orient herself in the absolute darkness. Does your sister know about our plan? Javier asked in a barely audible whisper.

I haven’t had a chance to talk to her, Lucía replied, a lump forming in her throat. The idea of leaving Carmen behind was unbearable, but she knew that alerting her would have been too risky. We’ll come back for her, I promise. They moved forward in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

The passageway descended slightly and turned several times, disorienting Javier, who had completely lost track of where they were within the estate. We’re almost there, Lucía murmured, stopping in front of what Javier guessed was another door. This exit leads to the pantry next to the kitchen.

The young woman gently pushed the wooden door, which gave way with the same creak as the entrance. A faint light filtered in from outside, allowing them to see for the first time since entering the passageway. Lucía peered out cautiously. The pantry was deserted, barely illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through a small window.

She signaled to Javier to follow her, and they both left the passageway. The keys must be in that drawer, Lucía indicated, pointing to a cabinet next to the large wood-burning stove that dominated the kitchen. They moved forward and groped in the dim light, trying not to bump into the utensils hanging from the ceiling.

Javier reached the drawer first and opened it carefully to avoid making it creak. Here they are, he said, taking out a set of keys. A flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the kitchen, followed by a crash of thunder that seemed to shake the foundations of the hacienda. The storm had arrived.

We’ll have to hurry, Lucía urged. The truck is in the back shed. If we make it. Her words were interrupted by the unmistakable click of a switch. The kitchen light came on, momentarily blinding them. What a disappointment, daughter. Don Esteban’s voice chilled Lucía’s blood.

There, in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room, stood her father. In one hand he held the shotgun, in the other a rosewood lantern. Beside him, pale and trembling, was Carmen. You thought I didn’t know the passageways from my own house, the old man continued, slowly advancing toward them. The same ones where you played as a child, believing no one could see you.

Javier instinctively positioned himself in front of Lucía, as if to protect her. Don Esteban said firmly, despite his fear, this has gone too far. What you’re doing is a crime. If you let us leave now, I promise I won’t. No, what, Doctor? Don Esteban interrupted with a sinister smile. You won’t say a word. You won’t go to the police. You think I care? Do you think the authorities in Durango would dare touch a hunter?

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, casting grotesque shadows on the walls. Father, please, pleaded Carmen, who remained by the door. Let them go. I will do whatever you want. I’ll stay with you. I will have the child you so desire, but let Lucia and the doctor leave.

Don Esteban looked at his youngest daughter with a strange mixture of contempt and tenderness. My sweet Carmen, he said, you were always the obedient one, unlike your sister. Always challenging me, always thinking she was smarter than her father.

He took another step towards them, now pointing the shotgun directly at Javier’s chest. Nobody is leaving tonight, he declared. The doctor will comply with what was agreed and you two, he looked alternately at Lucia and Carmen, will finally understand their place in this house.

Lucía felt panic creeping over her. She knew her father too well to know that there was no way to reason with him. He looked desperately around, searching for something, anything he could use as a defense. It was then that he noticed Don Esteban had placed the kerosene lantern on the kitchen table, a few meters from where the sacks of flour and the kitchen rags were.

A desperate idea began to form in his mind. You have won, father, he said, feigning surrender. I’ll do what you ask. We’ll go back to the doctor’s room. And as he spoke, he took a step to the side, seemingly submitting, but in reality moving closer to the table where the lantern was.

Too late for regrets, Lucia, replied Don Esteban, still watching her. Now I will have to watch over you day and night until one of you fulfills her duty. Outside, the storm intensified. The rain was pounding against the kitchen windows and the wind seemed to want to tear the roof off the hacienda.

Doctor, continued Don Esteban without putting down the shotgun, you will go first. Carmen will come next. Lucía will have to wait her turn as punishment for their disobedience. Javier remained motionless, his mind working frantically, searching for a way out of that insane situation. What if I refuse? he asked, stalling for time.

Don Esteban’s laughter echoed in the kitchen, more terrifying than the thunder that shook the night. Then, doctor, I’ll have to find someone less scrupulous, someone who doesn’t care whether the girls cooperate or not. Is that what he wants for them?

The moment of distraction was all Lucia needed. With a swift movement, he grabbed the lantern from the table and threw it at the sacks of flour. The glass broke, spilling the flammable kerosene which immediately found the necessary spark in the lit wick.

The flames rose instantly, fueled by the flour and dry rags. The fire spread with astonishing speed, creating a burning barrier between them and Don Esteban. Carmen! Lucia screamed, reaching her hand toward her sister through the flames. Come with me!

The confusion was total. Don Esteban stepped back, surprised by the sudden inferno that had broken out in his kitchen. Taking advantage of the distraction, Carmen ran towards her sister, dodging the flames that were already beginning to climb the wooden walls.

Damn it, roared Don Esteban, raising his shotgun again. The shot echoed amid the crackling of the fire, but the bullet was lost in the ceiling, deflected by the smoke and confusion. This way! Javier shouted, pointing to the back kitchen door that led to the patio.

The three of them ran towards the exit as the fire spread relentlessly through the kitchen. The heat was overwhelming, the smoke was starting to make it difficult to breathe. They managed to get outside just as a second gunshot rang out behind them.

The torrential rain greeted them, soaking them instantly, but offering them momentary relief from the scorching heat. The truck! Lucia shouted amidst the roar of the storm. They ran across the muddy yard toward the shed where Rosita kept the vehicle.

Javier, who still had the keys in his hand, opened the driver’s door and helped the sisters get in. As he started the engine, they could see Don Esteban emerging from the burning house, his figure silhouetted against the orange glow of the fire, which was already beginning to devour other parts of the estate.

They will not escape me, he shouted, advancing towards them with the shotgun still in his hand. This land belongs to the hunters. My blood must continue. The truck roared to life, its wheels spinning in the mud before finding traction.

Javier drove towards the exit of the hacienda, passing a few meters from Don Esteban, who managed to fire one more shot. The rear window shattered into a thousand pieces, but no one was injured. The last thing they saw of the oak hacienda through the rearview mirror as they drove away along the muddy road was the figure of Don Esteban Montero, kneeling in the mud, his silhouette outlined against the hell his empire had become, shouting curses that were lost in the roar of the storm.

The truck made difficult progress along the muddy path that connected the farm to the main road. The storm intensified, turning the journey into a test of will and skill. Javier Fuentes clung to the steering wheel, squinting to make out the road through the relentless curtain of rain.

In the back seat, Lucía hugged Carmen, who was trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the soaked clothes or the cold night air, it was the shock of what they had just experienced, of what they had left behind. The hacienda, Carmen murmured, looking out the shattered window at the orange glow that could still be seen in the distance.

Our whole life was there, and our whole nightmare too, Lucía replied firmly. It’s better this way. The road was getting harder and harder. At several points, they had to stop to move fallen branches or navigate puddles that looked like small lakes.

Where are we going? Carmen finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the cabin. To Durango, Javier replied. I have a friend who works at the hospital. It will give us shelter until we decide what to do.

Father will look for us, Carmen said, her voice trembling. He knows all the authorities in the city. Lucía took her sister’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Not if they think he died in the fire, she said with a determination that surprised even herself. And we with him.

Javier looked at her in the rearview mirror, understanding the magnitude of what Lucia was suggesting. The ranch is burning, she continued, by the time someone gets there, nothing will be left but ashes. If we disappear now, everyone will assume we perished in the fire.

But that would mean starting from scratch, Lucía finished, far from here, far from everything we know. A heavy silence fell over them as they considered the implications of that decision, abandoning their identities, their few legal rights, everything they had been up to that point.

I can help you, Javier offered after a moment. I have contacts in Mexico City. I could get them new documents, a place to stay. Why would you do that? Carmen asked suspiciously. You barely know us.

Javier was silent for a moment, focused on maneuvering the truck through a particularly flooded section. Because I was an accomplice in what his father was planning, he finally replied, the shame evident in his voice. I accepted his money, his indecent proposal. I came to this ranch knowing what was expected of me.

But you refused in the end, Lucía interjected, you wanted to help us. Too late, he replied bitterly. I should have reported Don Esteban as soon as he proposed that arrangement, but I let myself be tempted by the money, by the promise of my own clinic.

The rain was beginning to subside, although lightning still sporadically illuminated the night sky. We all make mistakes, Lucía said, surprising herself by defending someone she had considered an enemy just hours before. The important thing is how we decide to correct them.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the truck reached the paved road. Javier accelerated, taking advantage of the better surface, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and the burning ranch. As they approached the first lights of Durango, a strange feeling began to take hold of Lucía.

Fear, yes, but also something I hadn’t experienced in a long time, hope. What if Father survived? Carmen asked suddenly, verbalizing the fear they all shared, but no one had dared to mention. The hacienda was large and old, Lucía replied. With all those dry wooden beams, the fire must have spread very quickly. And Father paused, the image of the old man kneeling in the mud, surrounded by flames, still fresh in his mind.

Father is neither young nor agile and was obsessed with saving his possessions. He probably tried to go back in to rescue something. The property documents, Carmen agreed. He always said they were worth more than gold.

Javier slowed down as he entered the first suburbs of the city. The streets were deserted at that time of night, especially with the storm that, although waning, was still releasing persistent rain. We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes, he announced. Dr. Ramirez will be on call tonight. He is a good, discreet man. It will help us.

And then? Carmen asked. Then Javier hesitated, looking briefly at Lucia. Then you will decide. They can stay in Durango under new identities or go to Mexico City or even further away. I will give them the money I have saved. It’s the least I can do.

Will you come with us? Lucia said with a firmness that brooked no argument. It was not a question, but a statement of fact. Javier looked at her in surprise. But you helped us escape, Lucia continued. If my father survived, he will look for you as much as he looks for us. And if not, I paused, searching for the right words. If not, then the three of us are united by what happened tonight, by the fire that set us free.

Carmen nodded slowly, understanding what her sister meant. On that terrible night something was born between the three of them, a bond forged in horror, but which perhaps with time could transform into something more, something that none of them dared to name yet.

The truck finally stopped in front of the emergency entrance of the Durango civil hospital. The rain had stopped completely, as if nature had decided to give them a break. It’s time, Javier said, turning off the engine. What they decide now will determine the rest of their lives.

Lucía looked at her sister, then at Javier, and finally at the night that was beginning to give way to the first signs of dawn. I’ve already decided, she replied, opening the truck door. Tonight Lucía and Carmen Montero died in the fire at the Los Encinos ranch. Who will we be tomorrow? We’ll decide that together.

As they walked towards the hospital lights, Lucia couldn’t help but look one last time in the direction of the mountains, where the hacienda was still burning. For a moment she thought she saw her father’s figure among the shadows, watching them with those implacable eyes that had tormented her all her life.

But it was just a game of light and shadow, she told herself. Don Esteban Montero and his obsession were a thing of the past, reduced to ashes along with the estate and its curse. Now, for the first time in their lives, Lucía and Carmen were truly free.

Three months after the fire at the Los Eninos hacienda, Mexico City was bustling with its usual chaos of sounds, smells, and movement. In a modest apartment in the Condesa neighborhood, Lucía, now known as Elena Gutiérrez, was finishing getting ready to go to her job at a nearby bookstore.

The new life they had built was far removed from the isolation and opulence of the estate. The apartment, although small, was bright and welcoming. Carmen, renamed Ana, shared a room with Lucía while Javier occupied the living room, sleeping on a sofa bed that he put away every morning.

Are you leaving now? Carmen asked, entering the room with a cup of coffee. Lucia nodded, adjusting the glasses that were now part of her new identity. I’m taking inventory this morning, Mr. Vidal replied. He says new boxes have arrived from Barcelona.

The bookstore El Péndulo had become her refuge, a place where she could lose herself in other people’s stories and forget, even if only for a few hours, her own. The owner, a Catalan exiled during the Spanish Civil War, had hired her without asking too many questions, impressed by her literary knowledge and her apparent need to work.

Javier is on call tonight, Carmen remarked, sitting on the bed while Lucía finished getting ready. He says he’ll probably be late. Javier had secured a position as a resident doctor in a small hospital on the outskirts of town. The salary was modest, but enough to supplement what Lucia earned.

Carmen, for her part, had begun giving private piano lessons to children in the neighborhood, using the small instrument that Javier had bought second-hand as a gift of a new life. The relationship between the three had transformed over time from accomplices forced by circumstances into a kind of makeshift family.

Javier and Lucía had developed a special closeness, although neither dared to define exactly what kind of feelings were growing between them. Have you seen the newspaper today? Carmen asked, handing her sister the pages she had been reading.

Lucia shook her head, picking up the newspaper with some apprehension. Since their arrival in the capital, they had obsessively followed the news, fearful of finding any mention of the burning of the hacienda or worse still of the survival of Don Esteban.

Page 6, Carmen indicated. Down to the right, Lucía found the news, a small box titled Investigation into fire at Hacienda de Durango concludes. Her heart skipped a beat as she read: Authorities in Durango have concluded their investigation into the fire that destroyed the historic Los Eninos hacienda last July. According to the official report, the blaze that claimed the lives of owner Esteban Montero and his two daughters was caused by a kerosene lantern that overturned during the electrical storm that struck the region that night. The charred remains found in the ruins were identified as belonging to the three victims. The property will now pass into the hands of Augusto Montero, the deceased’s nephew, who has announced his intention to sell it to a North American hotel consortium.

Lucía laid the newspaper on the bed, her hands trembling slightly. It’s official, she murmured. We’re dead. Carmen offered a sad smile, as did her father. Both were silent for a moment, processing the news. It wasn’t a surprise.

Javier’s contacts in Durango had informed them weeks earlier that human remains had been found among the ruins, but seeing the confirmation printed in black and white gave it a sense of finality. Inevitable. I wonder what remains they identified as ours, Lucía commented with a mixture of relief and a shiver.

Perhaps some of the laborers who didn’t manage to escape, Carmen replied in a low voice. Rosita once mentioned that some were sleeping in the rooms of the east wing, near where the fire started. Guilt, that constant companion since the night of the fire, made itself present once again, innocent lives lost as a consequence of their desperate escape.

We have to move on, Lucia said, more to herself than to her sister. It’s the only thing we can do now. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door, but Carmen stopped her by grabbing her arm.

Have you thought about what we talked about last night? she asked. About Javier and you. Lucía looked away uncomfortably. The night before, after Javier had left for the hospital, Carmen had addressed the issue that had been hanging between them for weeks.

It’s obvious he has feelings for you, she had said. And you for him. It’s complicated, Lucia replied now, repeating what she had said then. It doesn’t have to be, Carmen insisted. We are no longer on the estate, we are no longer prisoners of our father’s rules. We can choose our own life, our own future.

Lucia nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in her sister’s words. I’ll talk to him, she finally promised when she returned from her shift. With that promise, she left the apartment and immersed herself in the morning bustle of Condesa, mingling with the anonymous crowd of workers beginning their day.

The El Péndulo bookstore was only a 10-minute walk away. Lucía enjoyed this daily commute, observing the unfamiliar faces, the small, everyday interactions, the normal life she had so longed for during her years of seclusion on the hacienda.

Upon arriving, she found Mr. Vidal already busy opening boxes of new books. The elderly bookseller greeted her with his usual warmth. Elena, you’re just in time. Grijalbo Publishers sent the entire García Márquez collection we ordered.

Lucía, Elena to the world now, smiled, placing her purse behind the counter and putting on the apron with the bookstore logo. Shall we start with these or the poetry books that arrived yesterday? she asked, pointing to another stack of unopened boxes.

The García Márquez books first, Vidal replied. I promised to set aside a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude for a customer who would be arriving that afternoon. Lucía nodded and began to work, grateful for the routine that kept unsettling thoughts at bay.

For the next few hours, she methodically unpacked books, registered them in the inventory, and placed them on their respective shelves. It was shortly after noon, while she was arranging a stack of novels in the Latin American literature section, when the doorbell announced the arrival of a new customer.

Good afternoon, she greeted automatically without looking up from her task. I’ll be with you in a moment. No rush, miss, replied a male voice with a slight northern accent. I have all the time in the world.

Something in that tone, in that cadence of speech, sent a shiver down Lucía’s spine. Slowly, she raised her gaze. In front of her, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, stood Augusto Montero, her father’s nephew. The recognition was immediate and mutual.

Augusto’s eyes, so similar to Don Esteban’s, narrowed slightly as a calculating smile spread across their faces. Well, well, he murmured, approaching the shelf where Lucía stood frozen. Now that’s a surprise. You were supposed to be dead, cousin.

The world seemed to stop around Lucia. The voices of other customers, the street noise filtering through the door, all faded away before the roar of blood in her ears. I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir, she finally replied, struggling to maintain her composure. You must be mistaking me for someone else.

Augusto chuckled softly, taking a book from the shelf and glancing through it with disinterest. You were always a terrible liar, Lucia, he said quietly, making sure only she could hear him. Even with those glasses and short hair, you’re still my uncle’s daughter. You have the same eyes, the same way of frowning when you’re scared.

Lucia instinctively looked towards the door, calculating the distance, the chances of escape. Don’t bother, Augusto continued, noticing her gaze. I didn’t come here to create a scene. I just wanted to confirm the rumors I heard in Durango.

What rumors? Lucía asked, unable to contain herself. That someone had seen the Montero sisters in Mexico City. Of course, nobody believed the poor drunk who told the story. After all, everyone knows they died in the fire.

He paused, watching the color drain from Lucia’s face. But I always had my doubts. The official version of the fire never fully convinced me. Mr. Vidal then appeared from the back room, interrupting the tense conversation. Elena, could you help me with the afternoon orders?

Augusto looked at the old bookseller, then back at Lucia and smiled broadly. Elena is a beautiful name. It looks good on you. I’ll be right there, Lucia replied to Mr. Vidal, without taking her eyes off her cousin.

When the old man disappeared again into the back room, Augusto got so close that Lucía could smell his expensive cologne, so similar to the one Don Esteban used. Don’t worry, cousin, he whispered. Your secret is safe with me.

For now, what do you want? Lucia asked, the tension evident in each syllable. We’ll discuss that later, he replied, taking a card from his pocket and placing it in the book he’d been browsing. I’m staying at the Hotel Reforma, room 312. I’ll expect you tonight at 9. Come alone.

Without waiting for a reply, Augusto returned the book to the shelf and headed for the exit. He paused briefly at the door. Oh, and Lucía, he added, turning to look at her one last time, give my regards to Carmen and Dr. Fuentes, of course.

With those words, he left the bookstore, leaving Lucía trembling among the shelves, the reality of her precarious situation hitting her with renewed force. The shadows of the past had returned to claim her, and this time there would be no fire to keep them at bay.

The apartment was shrouded in a tense silence. Lucía had recounted her encounter with Augusto, and now she and Carmen waited for Javier to return from the hospital to decide what to do. It was almost 7 p.m., and the appointment her cousin had arranged was at 9.

We could leave, Carmen suggested, pacing nervously around the small room. Take a bus to Veracruz or Guadalajara right now, or cross the border into Guatemala. Lucía shook her head, her mind racing. He’d find us. If he’s located us here, he could do it again.

So what? Are you going to see him? It’s crazy. He’s just like Father, Lucía, who knows what he might do to you. Before Lucía could answer, the apartment door opened and Javier walked in, still in his doctor’s coat. Seeing the sisters’ pale, tense faces, he knew immediately that something serious had happened.

What’s wrong? he asked, setting his briefcase on the floor. Lucía quickly told him about Augusto’s appearance at the bookstore, his advances, and his demand to meet her that night. As she spoke, Javier’s face darkened.

You won’t go, he said when she finished. It’s too dangerous. If I don’t go, he’ll come here, Lucía replied. He knows where I work; it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out where we live, and then the three of us would be in trouble.

What if we go to the police? Carmen suggested. Javier and Lucía exchanged a glance. They both knew that going to the authorities wasn’t a viable option. In their current situation, with false identities and fabricated documents, any contact with the law could lead them into even bigger trouble.

I’ll go with her, Javier finally decided. I’ll stay close and keep an eye out. If anything seems suspicious. No, Lucía interrupted. She specifically said to go alone. I’m sure she’ll be watching. If she sees you, who knows how she’ll react?

A heavy silence fell as the three considered their limited options. What if we give her what she wants? Carmen said suddenly. What do you mean? Lucía asked. Augusto was always greedy, Carmen explained. Like Father said, he’s a spendthrift. He’s probably already spent a good portion of the money from the sale of the ranch. Whatever he wants from us must be related to money.

We don’t have any money, Javier pointed out. But he doesn’t know that, Carmen replied, an idea clearly forming in her mind. We could make him believe we have access to some bank account that Father hid or family jewels that we managed to save before the fire.

Lucía looked at her sister with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Carmen had always been seen as the more docile, the more innocent of the two, but at that moment she was demonstrating a cunning that Lucía hadn’t appreciated before.

It’s dangerous, Javier warned. If he finds out you’re lying to him. It’s our best option, Carmen insisted, to buy time while we decide what to do in the long run. Lucía looked at the clock. There was just over an hour left until the appointment with Augusto.

I’ll do it, she decided, getting up, but I need a plan, something concrete to offer him. For the next 40 minutes, the three of them crafted a convincing story. According to their version, Don Esteban had maintained a secret account in a bank in Zurich, the proceeds of not entirely legal business dealings carried out over decades. Only Lucía knew the details to access that money, but she would need time to complete the necessary procedures without raising suspicion.

Do you think he’ll believe it? Javier asked skeptically. My father was known for his distrust of Mexican banks, Lucía replied. He always said that real money should be kept where the government couldn’t touch it. It’s not so far-fetched that he had accounts abroad.

At 8:30, Lucía was ready to leave. She had changed out of her bookstore uniform into a simple dress and taken off her glasses, which she didn’t really need, so that Augusto would see that she wasn’t trying to keep up the charade of her new identity.

Be careful, Javier said, taking her hands. The worry on her face was evident. If you feel you are in danger, get out of there immediately. I’ll be nearby at the hotel bar, and I’ll wait here, Carmen added, hugging her sister. You’ll come back, Lucía. We’ve both survived worse.

With those words of encouragement, Lucía left the apartment and took a taxi to the Hotel Reforma, one of the most luxurious in the city. During the ride, she mentally rehearsed the story they had prepared, polishing the details, anticipating the questions Augusto might ask.

The hotel stood imposingly on Paseo de la Reforma, its lights twinkling against the capital’s night sky. Lucía paid the taxi driver and entered the elegant lobby, aware of the stares her modest attire drew amidst the surrounding luxury. She headed straight for the elevators, bypassing the reception desk.

As the elevator ascended to the third floor, she felt her heart race. What if Augusto wasn’t alone, and what if this was all a trap? It was too late to doubt. The elevator doors opened on the third floor, and Lucía walked down the carpeted hallway to room 312. She took a deep breath before knocking.

The door opened almost immediately, as if Augusto had been waiting beside her. Her cousin smiled. Upon seeing her, he made a gesture that didn’t reach his cold eyes. Punctual, he remarked, stepping aside to let her pass. A quality I’ve always admired in you, cousin.

The suite was spacious and luxurious, with panoramic views of the illuminated city. On the dining table lay an open bottle of cognac and two glasses, one of them already half empty. A glass, Augusto offered, closing the door behind her.

No, thank you, Lucía replied, remaining standing. I didn’t come here to socialize. I want to know what you’re trying to do. Augusto poured more cognac into his glass, straight to the point as always. Sit down, Lucia, we have a lot to discuss.

Reluctantly, Lucia took a seat in one of the armchairs. Augusto settled down in front of her, studying her with a calculating gaze that painfully reminded her of her father. I must say that your resurrection has been a fascinating surprise, he began, taking a sip of his drink. When I saw the charred remains of the hacienda, when I identified what was supposedly my uncle’s body, I never imagined that it was all such an elaborate hoax.

It wasn’t a deception, Lucia replied firmly. It was survival. Do you know what your uncle was planning to do to Carmen and me? I know perfectly well, said Augusto, his smile fading. My uncle and I maintained a regular correspondence. He told me about his illness, about his obsession with having a male heir. He even told me about the doctor he had hired.

Lucía felt a chill when she realized that Augusto had known all along what was happening on the estate and had done nothing to stop it. Then you’ll understand why we had to flee. Oh, I understand perfectly, Augusto agreed. My uncle was always a traditional man, too attached to his ideas about lineage and blood. Personally, I find those concerns quite outdated.

He paused, as if waiting for Lucia to agree with him. She remained silent, waiting for him to get to the point. What I don’t understand, she continued finally, is why you decided to burn down the estate, all that wealth, that family history reduced to ashes.

We didn’t plan the fire, Lucía replied. It was an accident in the midst of chaos. We just wanted to escape. And they did it magnificently, Augusto acknowledged. Three official deaths, a destroyed estate, and me inheriting what was left: scorched lands and a surname in decline.

His tone had hardened, and Lucia realized that they were getting to the real reason for that meeting. The sale to the Americans, she ventured. It wasn’t as lucrative as you expected. Augusto looked at her with renewed interest. I see you’ve been following the news, he commented. Yes, I sold the land. But it turns out that much of the value of the estate was in the house itself, in the antiques it contained, in the historical documents that were lost in the fire. What I received was a fraction of what I would have received if the property had been intact.

I feel sorry for you, Lucía said with barely concealed sarcasm. Augusto leaned forward, his gaze intensifying. We both know it isn’t true, but I’m not here to reproach you, cousin. I’m here to make you a business proposal.

What kind of proposal? Lucía asked, maintaining her composure, even though her instinct screamed at her to flee the room. Augusto leaned back in his seat, studying her with an appraising look that made her uncomfortable. You see, cousin, I’ve done a lot of research on my uncle these past few months, his businesses, his contacts, his secrets.

He paused to take another sip of his cognac, and I’ve discovered some interesting things. For example, that he had accounts in Switzerland under a false name, accounts that never appeared in any official documents. Lucía maintained her impassive expression, though inside she felt a mixture of astonishment and fear. The story they had concocted to deceive Augusto was turning out to be partially true.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, she replied, trying to buy herself some time to think. Of course you know that, Augusto insisted, placing his glass on the table. My uncle trusted you with the ranch’s finances. You were the one who kept the books, who prepared the monthly balance sheets. You must have noticed the discrepancies between the declared and actual income.

It was true. Lucía had managed the ranch’s accounts since she was 16, and there were always certain sums her father ordered her not to record, certain sales of livestock or crops that seemed to vanish from the books. Let’s assume you’re right, she finally conceded. What exactly are you proposing?

Augusto’s smile widened, pleased that Lucía had taken the bait. It’s simple. You give me access to those accounts, and I’ll keep your secret. You’ll still be Elena Gutiérrez, living your quiet life with your sister and the good doctor. No one will know the Montero heiresses are still alive.

And if I refuse? Then I’ll have to inform the authorities that I’ve uncovered a fraud, that Esteban Montero’s daughters faked his death, probably after murdering their father. His tone was casual, as if he were discussing the weather. Imagine the scandal. The illustrious Montero sisters of the respectable Montero family accused of parricide and fraud.

Lucía felt the air grow heavy, suffocating. They had no escape. Augusto had them completely at his mercy. I need time, she said finally. Accessing those accounts requires certain procedures, codes that are hidden.

Of course, Augusto nodded with feigned understanding. I’ll give you a week, not a day more. He stood up, signaling that the meeting was over. One last detail, he added as Lucía rose. To make sure of your cooperation, I’d like your sister Carmen to accompany me these days as a guest.

Naturally, panic gripped Lucía. Never. Carmen has nothing to do with this. On the contrary, Augusto replied, his voice hardening, she has everything to do with it. It’s part of this family agreement. Either she comes willingly, or both of them come by force.

Lucía then understood the magnitude of the trap they had fallen into. Augusto didn’t just want the money; he wanted revenge, he wanted control over them, he wanted to finish what his uncle had started. I’ll come to your bookstore tomorrow at noon, Augusto concluded, opening the door. I hope you’ll have convinced your sister by then. Otherwise, he left the threat hanging in the air, undeterred.

When Lucía left the room, her legs trembled so much she feared she would collapse in the hallway. She had escaped Don Esteban’s control only to fall into the clutches of his nephew, a man perhaps even more dangerous for his calculated coldness.

The bar at the Hotel Reforma was almost empty. When Lucía entered, she looked around for Javier. She found him at a table in the back, an untouched cup of coffee in front of him, worry etched on his face. Seeing her, he jumped up and went over to her, taking her by the shoulders as if to make sure she was alright.

Are you okay? What happened? Lucía shook her head, unable to speak. The tears she had held back throughout the meeting with Augusto now threatened to spill over. Let’s go, Javier said, putting an arm around her protectively. Not here.

They left the hotel and walked in silence to a small nearby park. The night was cool, and the stars shone faintly against the polluted atmosphere of the capital. They sat on a secluded bench, and only then, safe in the dim light and relative solitude, did Lucía allow herself to break down.

Between gasps, she told Javier everything that had happened in the suite: the confirmation of her father’s secret accounts, Augusto’s proposal, and his final demand regarding Carmen. He’s a monster, just like my father, she concluded, drying her tears with the back of her hand. But smarter, more calculating.

Javier listened to her in silence, his face darkening with each new revelation. We will not hand Carmen over, he said finally, his voice filled with determination. And we will not let her blackmail you either. What other option do we have? Lucia asked desperately. If we don’t cooperate, he will report us to the police.

And even if they can’t prove that we killed my father, the mere fact that we faked our deaths is enough for us to flee, Javier decided. I can ask my friend Ramirez for a loan tonight. We’ll go north, we’ll cross into the United States as undocumented immigrants.

Lucia shook her head. It would be jumping from one danger to another. Furthermore, Augusto has resources. We would meet again. They remained silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, searching for a way out of the labyrinth they were in.

The accounts, Lucia suddenly said, if they really exist, if we can access them before Augusto. Do you know where to look? Javier asked. Maybe. Lucía joined in, a spark of hope illuminating her eyes. My father kept a safe behind a painting in his office. Carmen and I discovered it as children while playing. We never knew the combination, but the hacienda burned down.

The main structure was there, but there were separate buildings, Javier finished dejectedly. The stable, the farmhands’ house, and the old field office that my father used when he inspected the more remote lands. There was also a safe there, less important, but perhaps it’s risky to go back to Durango, Javier warned.

If Augusto finds out… He doesn’t have to, Lucía replied, her mind racing. We’ll tell him we’re cooperating, that we need a few days to prepare the necessary documents. Meanwhile, you can go to Durango and search that office and leave them alone with him hanging around.

No way. We won’t be alone, Lucía insisted. We’ll be in public places. Me at the bookstore, Carmen at her students’ house. Augusto will not risk doing anything that attracts attention.

Javier didn’t seem convinced, but Lucia took his hands in hers, looking him straight in the eyes. This is our only chance, Javier. If we find anything that proves my father’s illegal activities, we’ll have something to negotiate with Augusto or even report him to the authorities.

Finally, after much deliberation, Javier agreed. Okay, but promise me you’ll be extremely careful. At the slightest sign of danger, you’ll take refuge with Mr. Vidal or a neighbor. I promise, Lucia said, feeling for the first time in hours that she was regaining some control over her destiny.

They returned to the apartment, where Carmen was anxiously waiting for them. They explained the plan to her, omitting Augustus’s demand about her so as not to alarm her unnecessarily. That night, while Carmen slept, Lucía and Javier stayed in the living room preparing the details of the trip to Durango.

He would leave at dawn on the first bus, carrying with him a detailed map that Lucia had drawn from memory, showing the exact location of the field office and its possible entrances. Be careful, Lucía whispered as they finally settled down to rest for a few hours before dawn. If you see anything suspicious, any indication that Augusto is watching the ranch, come back immediately.

Javier nodded, and then, in an impulse that surprised them both, he leaned in and gently kissed Lucía’s lips. I’ll be back, he promised, and when all this is over, you and I will have a lot to talk about.

Lucía nodded, feeling a warmth in her chest that contrasted with the cold fear that had gripped her all night. That kiss, that simple gesture of affection amidst so much uncertainty, was like a small light in the darkness. But as she watched Javier pack his small travel bag, she couldn’t help but wonder if that light would be enough to illuminate the dark road ahead.

The bus moved slowly along the highway that connecting Mexico City to Durango, stopping in countless towns and cities along the way. Javier gazed out the window at the changing landscape from the central valleys to the first foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental, while his mind ran through the plan again and again.

Even with the most optimistic calculations, it would take at least two days to complete the mission. One day to travel to Durango, a few hours to locate and search the field office, and another day to return to the capital. Too much time with Augusto stalking the sisters.

In the mid-afternoon of the first day, while the bus made a stop in Zacatecas, Javier got off to stretch his legs and buy something to eat. At the small stand in the terminal, next to the sandwiches and sodas, he saw a payphone. Without thinking twice, he inserted some coins and dialed the number for the El Péndulo bookstore.

Good afternoon, El Péndulo bookstore, answered Lucía’s voice, so professional and composed that for a moment Javier doubted whether they were really in danger. It’s me, she said quietly, although no one seemed to be paying attention to her in the busy terminal.

Javier, the joy in Lucía’s voice was evident, but it quickly gave way to a more controlled tone. How’s the business trip going? She was being cautious in case someone was listening. Well, no problems so far, he replied, playing along. Everything’s quiet there.

There was a brief pause before Lucia answered. More or less. The customer from yesterday came to confirm his order. He insists that he must be ready for the weekend. Javier pressed the receiver. Augusto had returned to the bookstore, already pressing for his deadline.

And Ana? she asked, using the false name of Carmen. Another pause. Alright. In fact, the customer offered to take her out to eat. They went to a restaurant near here. Javier’s stomach lurched. Augusto had managed to take Carmen away.

Are you sure it’s okay? she insisted, trying not to let panic creep into her voice. Yes, he called me a little while ago. She said she would return home after her piano lessons. The warning was clear. Carmen was under surveillance, but so far she was sticking to the plan of feigning cooperation.

Javier promised, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take care of yourself, okay? You too, Lucia replied, and for a moment her voice betrayed her concern. We’re waiting for you.

The call ended and Javier returned to the bus with a knot in his stomach. The situation was even more delicate than they had anticipated. Augusto was moving his pieces faster than expected, getting closer to Carmen, probably looking for information or simply putting pressure on Lucía.

The rest of the trip was spent in a state of constant anxiety. Javier barely slept, fearing that every passing hour put the sisters in greater danger. Finally, at dawn on the second day, the bus arrived at the Durango terminal.

From there, Javier took a taxi to the outskirts of the city, to where the paved road ended and a dirt road began. This is as far as I can go, sir, the taxi driver said, stopping. The road ahead is bad for the car.

Javier paid the fare and got out, observing the semi-desert landscape that stretched out before him. In the distance, he could make out the outlines of what had once been the Los Encinos ranch, now reduced to blackened walls and ruined structures.

According to the map Lucía had drawn, the field office was located about 2 km west of the main house, near a small seasonal stream that would be dry at this time of year. He began walking, the morning sun already beating down on his back.

After almost an hour’s walk, he glimpsed the structure, a small stone building, modest compared to the magnificence the ranch must have once possessed, but still standing and intact. The fire hadn’t reached it.

Approaching cautiously, Javier confirmed that the place seemed abandoned. There were no signs of guards or recent visitors. The door was locked with a rusty padlock, but one of the side windows had broken panes, probably the work of some opportunistic looter after the fire.

Carefully, so as not to cut himself, Javier widened the opening in the window and slipped inside. The office was a single room furnished austerely with a wooden desk, a couple of chairs, and shelves full of dusty folders and documents. In one corner, a small liquor cabinet showed that Don Esteban enjoyed a drink while he worked.

Javier went straight to the place Lucía had marked on the map, the north wall, behind a small painting depicting the Montero family coat of arms. Sure enough, removing the painting revealed a safe embedded in the wall. It was smaller than the one Lucía had described in the main office, but of similar construction.

Now came the difficult part. Lucía didn’t know the combination, but she had suggested some possibilities based on dates important to her father: his birthday, the day he inherited the hacienda, his wedding anniversary. Javier began systematically trying each of these combinations, slowly turning the key.

He tuned the dial, listening intently for any click that might indicate he’d guessed correctly. After several failed attempts, he was about to give up when he decided to try one last possibility: Lucía’s birthdate.

To his surprise, the box opened with a soft click. Inside, it contained less than he expected: some documents, a small wad of old bills, and an antique key. Javier quickly examined the documents. They were deeds to properties adjacent to the hacienda, nothing particularly revealing, but among them, he found a yellowed envelope with no return address.

He carefully opened it and extracted a handwritten letter and a small piece of paper that appeared to be a bank receipt. The letter was dated 1972, more than 10 years prior, and signed simply with the initial E.

Javier read it quickly, his pulse quickening with each line. Dear Esteban, I confirm the opening of the account at the Zurich bank as per your instructions. The details are on the enclosed receipt. As agreed, the account is in the name of the shell company we established in Panama. Neither your wife nor your daughters will be able to access these funds without the personal code you have established. I remind you of the importance of maintaining this arrangement in absolute discretion, given the origin of the funds and the possible legal implications. Your devoted friend E.

Javier examined the bank receipt. It did indeed show the opening of an account at a Swiss bank in the name of a company called Eninos Trading Co., with an address in Panama. Most importantly, it included an account number and a reference code.

He had found exactly what they were looking for: proof that Don Esteban had hidden money abroad, probably of illicit origin, given the tone of the letter. With this information, they had leverage with Augusto. He carefully put the documents in his pocket and prepared to leave the office.

It was then that he heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle approaching. His heart racing, he peered out the broken window. A black pickup truck was moving along the dirt road, raising a cloud of dust. Although he was too far away to make out its occupants, Javier felt a chill run down his spine. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

He quickly closed the safe and put the painting back in its place. Then he desperately searched for an alternative exit. There was no back door, but he noticed a small window in the bathroom adjoining the office, just large enough for a thin person to squeeze through.

Without a second thought, Javier went to the bathroom and forced the window open. He slid through the narrow opening just as he heard the vehicle pull up in front of the office. Once outside, pressed against the wall, he heard voices, two men talking as they approached the entrance.

The boss said to check all the buildings that are still standing, one was saying, especially this one. It seems the old man kept important papers here. What exactly are we looking for? the other asked. I don’t know. Documents, keys, anything that looks valuable.

Javier didn’t wait to hear more. Crouching low, he ran toward a nearby clump of bushes and from there moved away as quietly as he could, staying off the main road. When he was a safe distance away, he picked up his pace. He had to get to Durango as soon as possible and catch the first bus back to Mexico City. Every minute counted now more than ever.

As he walked under the relentless sun, a terrifying certainty formed in his mind. Augusto didn’t trust them. He had sent men to gather the information he demanded from Lucía on his own. And if he was willing to do that, what else was he willing to do?

Three days after Javier’s departure, Lucía was closing the El Péndulo bookstore when she saw the now-familiar silhouette of Augusto Montero approaching along the sidewalk. Her cousin was wearing his usual impeccable suit, but there was something different about his expression, a tension he hadn’t shown in their previous encounters.

Good evening, cousin, he greeted her as he reached her side. Ready for our meeting? Lucía nodded, trying to remain calm. For the past few days, she had managed to keep Augusto at bay with promises that he was gathering the necessary information to access the Swiss accounts. But her patience had clearly run out.

Where’s Carmen? she asked, noticing that Augusto was alone. Your sister is waiting for us in a private place, he replied, his smile not reaching his cold eyes. A restaurant in Polanco. My driver will take us.

Lucía felt fear tighten in her chest. Carmen had left that morning to give her usual piano lessons and should have already returned to the apartment. What have you done with her? she demanded, momentarily forgetting her caution.

Nothing, dear cousin, Augusto replied, taking her arm firmly. I simply suggested she accompany us to our business meeting. Now we’re leaving. It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting. The black SUV was parked a few meters away.

Lucía had no choice but to get in. Aware that the situation had deteriorated rapidly, without Javier, who still hadn’t returned from Durango, and with Carmen seemingly under Augusto’s control, her options were limited.

The vehicle moved through the congested city streets, but instead of heading to Polanco, as Augusto had said, it headed out of town, toward the highway that led to Toluca. Where are we really going? asked Lucía, unable to contain her anxiety.

Somewhere we can talk in peace, replied Augusto, looking out the window with feigned disinterest. A small hotel on the outskirts, more discreet than the Reforma. Lucía understood then that the pretense of civility was over. Augusto was taking her to a secluded place where no one could hear or see what would happen.

The games are over, Lucía, continued Augusto, turning to her. You’ve been deceiving me, stalling while your doctor boyfriend went to Durango to find what I want. The shock must have been evident on Lucía’s face because Augusto laughed with satisfaction.

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. I have contacts everywhere. One of my men saw Dr. Fuentes lurking near the hacienda, snooping around the field office. Unfortunately, he escaped before they could catch him.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucía tried, knowing it was useless. Please, cousin, don’t insult my intelligence. You knew exactly where to look and you sent your doctor to do the dirty work.

Augusto took out a cigarette and lit it with a luxurious silver lighter. Which leads me to wonder, did she find anything? Or will I have to be more persuasive with Carmen tonight to get answers? The mention of her sister made Lucía feel a wave of nausea.

If you hurt her, it’s all up to you. Augusto interrupted. Cooperate and everyone will get out of this unscathed. Complicate things… and he left the threat hanging in the air, exhaling a puff of smoke. The ride continued in tense silence.

Finally, the van stopped in front of a small roadside hotel, the kind of place where no one asked questions and check-ins were kept under false names. The driver, a burly man with an impenetrable expression, opened the door for them. Augusto got out first and then offered his hand to Lucía with macabre gallantry. After you, cousin.

They entered the hotel, a seedy-looking establishment with a deserted lobby. Without pausing, Augusto led her down a dimly lit hallway to a room at the end. He took a key from his pocket and opened the door. Inside, Carmen sat in a chair by the window. Standing beside her, a tall man watched her every move.

Lucía! Carmen exclaimed when she saw her, jumping up. Stay where you are, Augusto ordered sharply. The man next to Carmen placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to sit down again. Now that we’re all gathered here, Augusto continued, closing the door behind them, we can proceed. I understand your boyfriend is returning tonight from Durango, hopefully bringing some valuable information with him.

Javier isn’t my boyfriend, Lucía replied automatically, though she knew it was an irrelevant detail at that moment. Anyway, Augusto dismissed with a wave of his hand. The important thing is that we’ll be meeting with him here, and I hope that by then we’ll have something concrete to discuss. He looked meaningfully at Carmen.

Let her go, Lucía pleaded. You have me. That’s enough. Augusto shook his head, amused. No, my dear cousin, I need all my chess pieces on the board. Besides, Carmen was always my uncle’s favorite. He had grand plans for her.

The insinuation sent a surge of fury through Lucía. You’re just like him, she spat, a monster obsessed with control and power. For the first time, Augusto’s mask of civility cracked completely. His face contorted in an expression of barely contained rage.

Don’t you dare to compare me to that crazy old man, he hissed. Your father was a dinosaur trapped in ridiculous traditions, obsessed with blood and lineage. I’m a businessman. Practical. I just want what’s rightfully mine, what was taken from me when they burned down the hacienda.

He moved closer to Lucía, their faces inches apart. And I’m going to get it one way or another. The sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the hotel broke the tense moment. Augusto stepped away from Lucía and looked out the window.

Looks like our doctor has arrived, he announced with a renewed smile. Just in time. He gestured to his man, who left the room, presumably to escort Javier. Lucía exchanged a glance with Carmen, trying to tell her to stay calm, that there was still hope.

Minutes later, the door opened and Javier was ushered inside. He looked exhausted, with several days’ worth of stubble and his clothes wrinkled from the long journey, but his eyes lit up when he saw the sisters unharmed. What a touching reunion! Augusto exclaimed sarcastically. Now, Doctor, I expect you to bring more than just good intentions.

Javier looked at Lucía for a sign. She nodded almost imperceptibly. They had no other choice. I found what I was looking for, Javier admitted, pulling a crumpled envelope from his inside jacket pocket. Augusto reached out impatiently, but Javier held the envelope.

First, I want your word that you will leave them alone after this. I demand that you never again seek them out or reveal that they are still alive. Augusto laughed, genuinely amused. Doctor, you are in no position to negotiate, but I am a reasonable man. If the information you have there is what I expect, then I will let them live their lives in peace. After all, dead cousins can’t claim inheritances, can they?

With obvious reluctance, Javier handed over the envelope. Augusto opened it eagerly, examining its contents. His expression changed as he read the letter and the bank statement. This is it, he murmured, his eyes gleaming with greed. Exactly what I suspected. My dear uncle, so concerned with tradition, had no qualms about hiding his fortune in tax havens.

He tucked the documents into his jacket and looked at the three of them with a triumphant smile. Well, I think our business is successfully concluded, he announced. Now there’s just one small detail left to resolve.

With a fluid motion, he pulled a pistol from his inside jacket pocket and pointed it directly at Lucía. I’m sorry, cousin, but I can’t risk you one day deciding to claim what you believe is rightfully yours.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Javier, seeing the weapon, instinctively lunged at Augusto. Carmen screamed. Lucía threw herself to the side, seeking cover. The shot echoed in the small room with a deafening crack.

Javier fell backward, a red stain rapidly spreading across his shirt. Lucía screamed his name, crawling toward him as Augusto recoiled, surprised by his own action. But before he could fire again, the bedroom door burst open. Several police officers burst in, weapons drawn.

Police, everyone on the ground! Augusto tried to hide his weapon, but it was too late. Two officers subdued him while another rushed to Javier, who lay bleeding on the ground with Lucía holding his head. An ambulance, quick! the officer shouted, pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Amid the confusion, Lucia saw a man in a suit approach Carmen, who was trembling uncontrollably. Miss Carmen Montero? he asked, showing an ID. I’m Agent Ramírez with the judicial police. Your friend, Dr. Fuentes, contacted us from Durango. He told us the whole story.

As the paramedics rushed in to attend to Javier, Lucía understood what had happened. Javier had foreseen Augusto’s betrayal and alerted the authorities, probably through his friend at the hospital in Durango. Will he survive? she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she watched them transfer Javier to a stretcher.

The bullet appears to have entered his shoulder, one of the paramedics replied. If we get to the hospital quickly, he has a good chance. As the police handcuffed Augusto and led him from the room, he looked at Lucía one last time. The hatred and frustration were evident on his face.

This isn’t over, cousin, he spat. The blood of the hunters always finds its way. But Lucía wasn’t listening to him anymore. All her attention was on Javier, on the pallor of his face, on his shallow breathing. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly, as if she could transfer her own life to him.

You’ll be okay, she whispered, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. We’re going to be alright. And as the ambulance sped away down the highway, sirens wailing into the night, Lucía felt the ashes of the past finally begin to scatter, carrying with them the Montero curse.

Five years later, the small office on the outskirts of Guadalajara was full of patients that morning. In the waiting room, children played while their mothers chatted in hushed tones. On the wall, a discreet plaque announced: Dr. Javier Méndez, General Medicine.

Inside the office, Javier was finishing examining a boy of about six years old. The scar on his shoulder, hidden beneath his white coat, barely bothered him anymore, except on rainy days. He’s perfectly fine, he announced to the worried mother. Just a common cold, rest and plenty of fluids.

When mother and son left, Javier took advantage of the brief break to look at the framed photograph on his desk, him and Lucia, now his wife, holding their little daughter who was barely a year old. In the background, Carmen smiled next to her fiancé, a young music teacher she had met at the conservatory, where she now taught piano.

Five years had passed since that night in the roadside hotel. Five years since Augusto Montero had been convicted of attempted murder and multiple fraud charges uncovered when authorities investigated his businesses. Following their arrest, five years had passed since Lucía and Carmen had legally recovered their identities after proving that they had fled for fear of abuse from their father.

The full truth about Don Esteban Montero and his plans for his daughters had come to light during the trial, causing a scandal that still resonated in Durango’s social circles. And five years since Javier, Lucía and Carmen had left Mexico City to start over in Guadalajara, far from the memories, but close enough to feel at home.

The intercom buzzed, pulling Javier from his thoughts. Doctor, your wife is here, the receptionist announced. Moments later, the door opened and Lucia entered, beaming, with little Elena in her arms.

The little girl, upon seeing her father, stretched out her little arms towards him with a toothless smile. We thought we’d surprise you and take you out to lunch, Lucía explained, gently kissing her husband as he took the baby in his arms.

The best possible surprise, he replied, admiring once again the strength and beauty of the woman he had learned to love under the most extraordinary circumstances. Together, as the family they had built from the ashes of a dark past, they stepped out into the bright Guadalajara morning, leaving behind for good the shadow of the hacienda, the oak trees, and the curse of the hunters.