PART 1
“OPEN MY BELLY, DAD, I BEG YOU! There’s something alive inside me!”
Emiliano’s scream tore through the early morning like glass shattering on marble.
Rodrigo Arriaga, owner of one of Monterrey’s most powerful construction companies, stood frozen in his son’s doorway. His cell phone hung at his side, his shirt was buttoned wrong, and his eyes were red from sleeplessness. In front of him, his eleven-year-old son writhed on the floor, doubled over, his fingernails digging into his abdomen.
“Take it out!” Emiliano cried. “It’s biting me from the inside!”
“Enough!” Rodrigo shouted, though his voice cracked. “They took you to the hospital three times. They ran tests. The doctors said you’re fine.”
The boy raised his face — soaked in sweat, lips dry, eyes filled with a terror that seemed entirely real.
— I’m not making this up, Dad… it was her.
Daniela, Rodrigo’s new wife, appeared in the doorway. Tall, composed, wearing a white silk robe, her expression perfectly arranged into sorrow.
“It’s happening again,” she whispered. “Rodrigo, my love, you can’t keep letting this go. Emiliano won’t accept that you have a new family.”
“Lies!” the boy shouted. “You’re putting something in my chocolate!”
Daniela pressed a hand to her chest as though the accusation had wounded her.
— You see? He’s already accusing me of poisoning him. This is beyond a tantrum. He needs psychiatric help.
Rodrigo closed his eyes. Ever since Daniela had arrived in the house, Emiliano had changed. He refused to join them for dinner, locked himself in his room, and woke up screaming in the night. The doctors spoke of anxiety, unresolved grief over his mother’s death, and rejection of his stepmother.
And Rodrigo, worn down, had begun to believe them.
“If you accuse Daniela again without proof,” he said harshly, “I’ll have you committed to a clinic tomorrow.”
Emiliano stopped crying for a moment. He looked at his father as though he had just lost him for good.
From the hallway, Lucía Hernández — the new nanny — felt her blood run cold. She had only been working at the San Pedro Garza García residence for two weeks, but she had already seen far too much.
She had watched Emiliano tremble every time Daniela brought him a cup of hot chocolate.
She had noticed a small dark bottle hidden behind the cinnamon jars.
And that night, while collecting laundry near the kitchen, she had seen Daniela pour several drops into the child’s cup.
Lucía stepped forward slowly.
— Mr. Rodrigo… please don’t let the child drink anything prepared by the lady.
Daniela turned toward her, eyes blazing.
— What did you say?
Lucía swallowed — but did not look away.
— I saw what she put in his chocolate.
The silence came down like a weight.
Emiliano, still on the floor, extended a trembling hand toward his father.
— I told you, Dad…
Rodrigo looked at the cup on the desk.
For the first time, his son’s fear seemed more real to him than his wife’s tears.
And when Daniela tried to smile, that smile no longer looked warm.
It looked like a warning.
He could not have imagined what he was about to discover.
