CHAPTER 2 — THE BROTHER WHO NEVER DIED

The crying was different.

Sofía noticed it immediately.

Every sound Mateo made before had been a cry of pain.

A reaction.

A body fighting against something it could not understand.

But this was different.

This was fear.

The baby stared at the nursery door.

His tiny fingers tightened around Sofía’s sleeve.

As if he knew someone was standing on the other side.

“Nicolás.”

Valeria’s voice trembled.

“You saw him too, right?”

Nobody answered.

Because everyone in the room had seen the same impossible thing.

Alejandro Velasco.

A man who had been dead for twelve years.

Nicolás finally moved.

“Lock the house.”

The guards immediately reacted.

“Every door. Every exit. Nobody leaves.”

His voice was cold.

Controlled.

But Sofía noticed something nobody else did.

His hands were shaking.

Only slightly.

But they were shaking.

The most powerful man in the room was afraid.

Not of an enemy.

Not of a rival.

Of a ghost.

The basement was empty.

Ten minutes later, Nicolás stood in front of the security monitors.

The footage had been reviewed three times.

The same thing appeared every time.

A man walking through the basement.

The same height.

The same face.

The same scar above the left eyebrow.

Alejandro.

Impossible.

“Show me the recording before that moment.”

The security officer nodded.

The footage rewound.

Nothing.

The basement remained empty.

Then suddenly—

The image changed.

A person appeared.

No entrance.

No door opening.

No movement before.

One second the basement was empty.

The next second, he was there.

Sofía watched carefully.

“That’s not possible.”

Nicolás looked at her.

“You believe it?”

“No.”

She looked at the screen.

“I believe someone wants you to believe it.”

That answer caught his attention.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone edited this.”

The security officer immediately shook his head.

“The system is protected.”

Sofía looked at him.

“Nothing is protected if someone knows how it works.”

Nicolás stared at the screen.

A fake appearance.

A hidden message.

A hidden room.

A device inside his son's nursery.

Everything pointed toward one conclusion.

Someone wanted him scared.

But why?

The answer was hidden in the past.

And the past had a name.

Alejandro Velasco.

The Velasco family never talked about Alejandro.

Not because they forgot him.

Because they remembered him too well.

Nicolás had spent twelve years building a wall around that name.

His younger brother.

His partner.

His opposite.

Where Nicolás was ruthless, Alejandro was compassionate.

Where Nicolás saw opportunities, Alejandro saw consequences.

They had built the Velasco empire together.

At least that was what everyone believed.

The truth was more complicated.

Alejandro had built the first foundations.

The legitimate businesses.

The construction companies.

The ports.

The contracts.

Nicolás had expanded them.

Bigger.

Faster.

More powerful.

And darker.

Alejandro hated what the empire became.

“You are turning everything we created into something we should fear.”

That was the last serious conversation they had.

Three days later, Alejandro’s car went off a mountain road.

The official report said:

Mechanical failure.

No survivors.

The funeral was private.

The investigation was short.

Too short.

Sofía noticed.

“Your brother’s death was never investigated properly.”

Nicolás looked at her.

“You weren’t there.”

“No.”

She looked at the documents on the table.

“But I know what a rushed investigation looks like.”

“You think he survived?”

“I think someone wanted everyone to believe he died.”

Silence.

Valeria looked at her husband.

“Nicolás…”

He avoided her eyes.

Sofía noticed.

“You know something.”

“No.”

“You hesitated.”

His expression hardened.

“You are a nurse. Not an investigator.”

“And you are a father.”

The room became quiet.

“Your son has been suffering for months because someone hid things inside his room.”

She stepped closer.

“You can protect your pride, or you can protect Mateo.”

For a moment, Nicolás looked like he wanted to be angry.

But he couldn't.

Because she was right.

Later that night, Sofía sat beside Mateo’s crib.

The mansion was quiet.

Too quiet.

She watched the baby sleep.

A child who had spent his entire life surrounded by people who wanted to control everything.

The temperature.

The food.

The clothes.

The environment.

But nobody had listened.

Until now.

“You remind me of him.”

The voice came from behind her.

Sofía turned.

Nicolás stood near the door.

“Who?”

He looked at Mateo.

“My brother.”

Sofía said nothing.

“Before everything changed, Alejandro was like this.”

A pause.

“Quiet. Observant. He noticed things other people ignored.”

She studied him.

“You loved him.”

Nicolás looked away.

“Yes.”

The honesty surprised her.

“Then why do you look angry when you talk about him?”

Because some wounds were not caused by hate.

They were caused by regret.

“I failed him.”

Sofía remained silent.

Nicolás continued.

“Everyone thinks power means you can protect people.”

His voice lowered.

“But sometimes power is the reason people get hurt.”

Before Sofía could respond, the lights went out.

The nursery became completely dark.

Mateo immediately woke.

But this time he didn't cry.

He stared toward the hidden wall.

Then something happened.

A small sound came from inside.

A voice.

Weak.

Distorted.

Like someone speaking through an old recording.

“Nicolás…”

Everyone froze.

Because the voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

“Your son is not the first child they used.”

Nicolás stopped breathing.

The voice continued.

“You were warned.”

The recording ended.

The lights returned.

Nobody moved.

Then Sofía looked at Nicolás.

“Who was that?”

He didn't answer.

Because he already knew.

Alejandro.

But the message was not the worst part.

The worst part was the final sentence.

The one that appeared on the hidden screen behind the wall.

A sentence written by someone who knew the family better than anyone.

ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FIRST CHILD.

Everyone turned toward Leonor.

The old woman stood frozen.

For the first time in twelve years…

she looked guilty.

Nicolás stared at his mother.

“What first child?”

Leonor said nothing.

“Mother.”

Her lips trembled.

“Nicolás…”

His voice became colder.

“Who was the first child?”

Leonor closed her eyes.

And whispered:

“Your brother was not the only one who disappeared.”

The room fell silent.

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And somewhere inside the mansion…

a door opened.