Chapter 1 - The Boy Beside the Black SUV
Ricardo Galván had imagined the reunion a hundred times during the three months he spent moving between Madrid, Berlin, and Dubai. He imagined Diego running across the Toluca hangar, arms open, shoes untied, shouting “Dad!” so loudly the pilots would laugh. Instead, the first thing Ricardo heard after stepping off his jet was Valeria saying, “If he seems strange, don’t hug him too hard. He’s in one of his moods.”
Ricardo barely looked at her. His eyes had already found his son.
Seven-year-old Diego stood beside a black SUV in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and polished shoes. Everything about him looked expensive and controlled. His hair was combed perfectly. His collar was buttoned to the throat. His hands hung at his sides.
He did not smile.
Ricardo’s chest tightened.
“Champ.”
Diego raised his eyes.
That was all.
Ricardo crossed the hangar and knelt. “I’m back.”
Diego’s lower lip moved as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came.
Ricardo reached to pull him into a hug.
The second his palm touched the boy’s back, Diego jerked away with a small cry.
“Ow.”
Ricardo froze.
Valeria clicked her tongue. “See? Drama. Every day has been something.”
Ricardo looked at her slowly. His ex-wife wore oversized sunglasses and a cream suit. Her handbag probably cost more than most people’s cars. To everyone else she looked composed.
To Ricardo, suddenly, she looked rehearsed.
“What happened to his back?”
“Nothing.”
“Diego?”
The boy stared at the concrete.
Valeria sighed. “He’s been impossible since you left. Complaining, refusing meals, pretending things hurt when he doesn’t want to cooperate.”
Ricardo studied his son’s face.
“You lost weight.”
“I’m fine.”
The voice was too quiet.
Valeria said, “He’s growing.”
Ricardo stood. “Let’s go home.”
During the drive to Lomas de Chapultepec, Diego refused to sit properly. He stood between the second-row seats, gripping a leather handrail with both hands.
“Sit down, son,” Ricardo said.
“I’m okay.”
“You need a seat belt.”
Diego’s face tightened.
Valeria looked up from her phone. “Just let him stand. He’ll make a scene.”
Ricardo stared at her.
“A seven-year-old doesn’t stand in a moving vehicle.”
“He says sitting hurts.”
The words were casual.
Too casual.
Ricardo reached for Diego’s shoulder.
The boy flinched before he touched him.
That reaction was worse than the first.
Ricardo lowered his hand.
“Where does it hurt?”
Diego shook his head.
Valeria began talking about a charity auction as though nothing had happened.
Ricardo heard almost none of it.
He watched his son sweat in a freezing car.
At the mansion, staff lined the entry hall.
The housekeeper, Elena, smiled when she saw Ricardo, then looked immediately at Diego.
Her smile disappeared.
That was another thing he noticed.
Ricardo carried several gift boxes into the living room.
“I got you the London building set.”
For the first time, Diego’s eyes brightened.
“You found it?”
“Of course.”
The smile lasted two seconds.
Valeria walked in behind them.
“Sit down and play with your father. I have a fitting.”
Diego’s face went blank again.
Ricardo watched him lower himself toward the carpet.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Halfway down, his knees buckled.
A muffled cry escaped him.
He collapsed onto his side.
“Diego!”
Ricardo was on the floor instantly.
Valeria rolled her eyes. “Ricardo, don’t encourage this.”
“Encourage what?”
“He throws himself around when he wants attention.”
Diego curled tighter.
Ricardo reached toward his belt.
“Dad, no.”
The fear in that one word stopped him.
“Champ, I need to see if you’re hurt.”
Diego’s eyes filled.
“Please don’t be mad.”
Ricardo felt something cold move through him.
“Why would I be mad?”
Diego would not answer.
Ricardo loosened the belt carefully.
The expensive clothes hid more than he expected.
There were areas of swollen, irritated skin and bruising at different stages of healing. Nothing grotesque, nothing theatrical, but far too much for any explanation involving “chafing.”
And there was a sour medicinal smell.
Ricardo stood so fast the room tilted.
“Call an ambulance.”
Valeria went pale.
“It’s not necessary.”
He turned toward her.
“Call one.”
“Ricardo, please.”
Elena was already dialing.
Valeria whispered, “I thought it was irritation.”
Ricardo stared at her.
“You knew he was hurt.”
“I knew he complained.”
“He can barely sit.”
“He exaggerates.”
Diego began crying.
Ricardo turned away from Valeria immediately.
He knelt.
“Can I pick you up?”
Diego hesitated.
That broke Ricardo’s heart more than any bruise.
He asked again.
“Can I?”
Finally Diego nodded.
Ricardo lifted him carefully, keeping pressure away from the painful areas.
Diego buried his face against his chest.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you leaving again tomorrow?”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“No.”
Valeria’s voice came from behind him.
“You’re making promises you can’t keep.”
He looked back.
For the first time in thirteen years of knowing Valeria, Ricardo did not see the elegant mother of his child.
He saw a woman worried about what doctors might find.
“Wait for me,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
“This is just the beginning.”
At Hospital Ángeles, doctors took Diego behind a privacy curtain.
Ricardo waited outside while a pediatric specialist examined him.
Valeria arrived twenty minutes later with an attorney.
That told Ricardo more than her words.
“What is he doing here?” he asked.
Valeria removed her sunglasses.
“Protecting everyone.”
“From what?”
“Misunderstandings.”
Ricardo laughed once.
Then the doctor stepped into the hall.
“Mr. Galván?”
Ricardo stood.
“Your son is dehydrated and underweight. We also found evidence of repeated injury that does not match the history we were given.”
Valeria said quickly, “He falls.”
The doctor ignored her.
“There are also signs he may have been given sedating medication.”
Ricardo stopped breathing.
“What medication?”
“We’re running toxicology.”
Valeria’s face emptied.
Ricardo turned.
“Did you give him something?”
“No.”
“Valeria.”
“He has trouble sleeping.”
“What did you give him?”
“Nothing dangerous.”
The doctor’s expression changed.
That was the moment Valeria realized she had answered the wrong question.
Ricardo’s voice became almost a whisper.
“You drugged him?”
She shook her head.
“No. Ricardo, listen—”
A nurse opened the door.
Diego was awake inside.
His small voice carried into the hallway.
“Dad?”
Ricardo stepped toward him.
Then Diego said something else.
“Don’t let Mamá take me home.”
Every person in the hallway went silent.
Ricardo looked at Valeria.
She looked toward the elevator.
May you like
And for the first time, he understood that his son had not spent three months missing him.
He had spent three months waiting for him.
