Chapter 2 - THE HOSPITAL
Camila’s temperature was low enough to concern the triage nurse.
Not dangerously low.
But wrong.
Her fingers were pale.
Her lips were dry.
She had lost nearly two kilograms since her last pediatric visit.
I stared at the number on the scale.
“That can’t be right.”
The nurse checked again.
It was right.
A pediatrician named Dr. Sofía Méndez examined her.
“When did she last eat a full meal?” she asked.
“This morning, I think. I’ve been traveling.”
Camila whispered, “I had cereal.”
“What did you have for lunch?” Dr. Méndez asked.
Camila looked toward me before answering.
“Grandma said lunch was for boys because Uncle Sergio was coming.”
My stomach turned.
“What did you eat?”
“A cookie.”
“And dinner?”
She lifted the stale bread roll I had placed inside a plastic bag.
“This.”
Dr. Méndez’s expression changed.
Not outrage.
Professional concern.
That frightened me more.
She ordered blood tests, fluids, and documentation.
A social worker came in.
Then a child protection officer.
Camila told them about the balcony.
She said Carmen sometimes made her sit outside when she cried.
She said Daniel called it “quiet time.”
She said Valeria filmed her crying once and laughed because “sad children get more views.”
I pressed both hands over my mouth.
My daughter had been living inside cruelty while I paid the bills that financed it.
Lucía arrived before midnight, carrying her laptop and a dark blue folder.
She looked at Camila asleep beneath a hospital blanket.
Then at me.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I understood.
“How long have you known Daniel was capable of ignoring her?”
My eyes filled.
“I didn’t.”
Lucía sat beside me.
“You knew pieces.”
I thought about every call Daniel cut short.
Every time Camila begged me not to travel.
Every time Carmen said Camila had become difficult.
Every time Valeria joked that my daughter needed to be “less dramatic like her mother.”
Pieces.
Yes.
I had known pieces.
I had refused to arrange them into a picture.
Lucía opened her laptop.
“The cards are blocked. Daniel’s authority over the salary account has been revoked. A fraud notice is attached to the apartment title. The lender has frozen the pending transaction.”
“Pending?”
She turned the screen toward me.
A credit application for 2.6 million pesos.
Collateral listed:
My apartment.
Purpose:
Expansion of a family hospitality company called Costa Dorada Experiences.
I had never heard of it.
The listed directors were Daniel, Valeria, and Sergio.
My name appeared as financial guarantor.
My digital signature appeared beneath it.
I had not signed.
Lucía clicked another page.
There were copies of my tax documents.
Salary statements.
Passport.
Company contract.
Even a copy of the apartment deed I kept in a locked drawer.
“How did they get these?”
“Daniel had access to the home office.”
“I changed the lock six months ago.”
Lucía looked at me carefully.
“Who installed the new lock?”
Daniel.
I closed my eyes.
The hospital room seemed to tilt.
“Was the seafood dinner a celebration?”
“Possibly. The bank issued conditional approval this afternoon.”
That was why Sergio was there.
That was why Valeria had been filming.
That was why they wanted the table to look luxurious.
They were celebrating the moment they believed my property had become theirs.
Lucía placed another document in front of me.
A declaration signed by Daniel.
My wife travels extensively and has delegated full authority over family assets and the care of our minor daughter.
Below that was a sentence that made my skin go cold.
Mariana’s emotional instability has worsened due to professional stress, and emergency intervention may become necessary.
I looked at Lucía.
May you like
“What is this?”
“The beginning of a custody file.”
