For years I had delegated almost everything to others.
This time I couldn’t.
He arrived with two units patrolling the area.
The house was a makeshift structure with curtains instead of doors.
There they found the second twin, lying in a bed, dehydrated and with a fever.
The woman said that Ramiro had offered her money to “look after the child for a few hours.”
Alejandro left there with the baby wrapped in his sack, feeling an unbearable weight in his arms.
It wasn’t just the child.
It was the certainty of how many times a misfortune can grow while everyone looks the other way.
The other one was missing.
And Ramiro was missing.
They located him an hour later at an old terminal, trying to board a bus.
The twin was crying.
Ramiro shouted that he was his son.
That no one could take it away from him.
That it was all a conspiracy.
Lucía saw the video on an officer’s phone and covered her mouth.
“He always does that,” she said. “He shouts loudly to make it seem like he’s right.”
The phrase left the adults around him speechless.
When they finally got the baby back, Mariana collapsed in relief on the hospital bed.
That night, with both twins safe and Lucía asleep for the first time in hours on a sofa, the prosecutor returned with news.
Ramiro would be charged.
But not only because of domestic violence and child abduction.
Also for fraud, forgery and possible collusion with third parties in the misappropriation of compensation.
Ricardo Morales had already disappeared from the supermarket before the end of the shift.
Alejandro smiled humorlessly.
—Let him run.
Teresa looked at him.
—He doesn’t seem surprised.
—I’m not. People like that always feel untouchable until someone turns off their music.
Three days later, Mariana was out of danger.
Still weak.
Still scared.
But alive.
When she was able to speak more calmly, she asked to see Alejandro.
He entered the room thinking she would thank him.
He was wrong.
Mariana looked at him for a long time before speaking.
—You look a lot like someone.
Alejandro felt a small internal jolt.
-Whom?
—To a woman I met years ago. I worked in a house in Tepatitlán. The lady was a cook. Very good. Her name was Elena Castillo.
Alexander didn’t blink.
Elena.
His mother.
Mariana barely smiled, her lips still pale.
—She helped me when I was fifteen. She gave me food, clothes… she told me that if I could someday, I should do the same for someone else. I never forgot her name.
Time seemed to shrink.
Alejandro took a while to breathe.
—She was my mother.
Mariana closed her eyes.
As if an invisible piece had just fallen into place.
—Then I understand why he came back for Lucia.
It was not a grandiose scene.
There was no music.
There was no speech.
Just two broken people understanding that sometimes life takes too long to repay a debt… but it’s not always forgotten.
A week later, the case exploded in the media.
Not because of Lucia.
Alexander prevented their faces from being used.
The scandal erupted due to the exposed network: managers, shell foundations, frozen files, illegal payments to widows, hidden commissions. Ricardo Morales was arrested while trying to cross into Texas with documents and cash.
In his statement, he tried to present himself as a junior employee.
It didn’t work for him.
There were messages.
Transfers.
Audios.
And a poisonous detail: he had recognized Lucía in the supermarket because she had already gone there months before with her mother to beg for help to unlock Julián’s compensation.
I had seen her.
I knew perfectly well who he was.
And that night he decided to humiliate her just the same.
When Lucía found out, she didn’t cry.
He only asked:
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