Chapter 7 — Daniel’s Second Life
Chapter 7 — Daniel’s Second Life
“Camila is gone.”
The words echoed through Mariana's mind long after the call ended.
She stood in the darkness of the underground passage, clutching the M-17 file against her chest.
“Daniel,” she whispered into the phone. “What do you mean she's gone?”
His breathing was ragged.
“I went to the school.”
“And?”
“She wasn't there.”
Mariana's blood turned cold.
“Who picked her up?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Carmen?”
“I don't know.”
“Daniel, stop saying you don't know!”
“I've been looking for her for forty minutes.”
“Forty minutes?”
“Yes.”
Mariana closed her eyes.
“Where are you now?”
“At the apartment.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“Why?”
“Because they're watching the apartment.”
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Everyone.”
The call ended.
Mariana stared at the phone.
Isabel stood beside her.
“You heard him.”
“Yes.”
“Then we move.”
Mariana shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“My daughter is missing.”
“You can't go back there.”
“I don't care.”
“You'll walk into a trap.”
“I don't care.”
Isabel grabbed her arm.
“Mariana, listen to me.”
Mariana turned.
Her eyes were filled with tears and fury.
“Three years ago, they convinced me that my husband was simply weak. Then I discovered he was hiding records. I discovered my mother-in-law was paying people to lie to me. I discovered my daughter's name was entered into a secret file before she was born.”
Her voice broke.
“And now my daughter is gone.”
She stepped closer.
“I'm done being careful.”
Isabel looked at her.
For a moment, she saw something change in Mariana.
The frightened wife who had walked into her house was gone.
A mother was standing in her place.
“Then we don't go through the front door,” Isabel said.
“We find another way.”
Two hours earlier, Daniel had been sitting in the back of his car.
He had been trying to call Mariana.
She didn't answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then his phone rang.
A number he didn't recognize.
“Hello?”
A man's voice said:
“You should have left the past alone.”
Daniel's body went rigid.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
“Then ask your mother.”
The call ended.
Daniel immediately drove to the preschool.
He arrived at 3:14 p.m.
The school was almost empty.
Parents were collecting their children.
Teachers were locking classroom doors.
Daniel rushed inside.
“Camila Torres.”
The receptionist looked at him.
“I'm her father.”
The woman's expression changed.
“Mr. Herrera?”
“Yes. Where is she?”
The receptionist looked confused.
“She already left.”
Daniel froze.
“With whom?”
“Your wife.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Mariana didn't come.”
The receptionist checked the computer.
“She signed her out.”
“When?”
“Twenty-seven minutes ago.”
“Show me.”
The receptionist turned the monitor toward him.
There was the signature.
Mariana Torres.
Daniel stared at it.
It looked perfect.
Almost too perfect.
But there was one problem.
Mariana's signature had always slanted slightly upward at the end.
This one didn't.
Daniel's stomach dropped.
“Who was with Camila?”
The receptionist hesitated.
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“She said she was your wife's sister.”
“Mariana doesn't have a sister.”
The receptionist's face went pale.
“What?”
Daniel grabbed the counter.
“Call the police.”
The police arrived twelve minutes later.
Daniel stood outside the school while officers questioned the staff.
His hands shook.
He couldn't stop thinking about the signature.
Someone had forged it.
Someone had known exactly where Camila would be.
And someone had known enough about Mariana to imitate her handwriting.
His phone rang again.
Carmen.
He answered.
“Where is Camila?”
“What?”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Someone took her.”
Carmen went silent.
Then:
“You need to come home.”
“Why?”
“Because your father is here.”
Daniel froze.
His father.
Dead for nine years.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Come home.”
“Mom—”
She hung up.
Daniel stared at the phone.
Then he looked at the police officers.
“I'm leaving.”
“Mr. Herrera, we need your statement.”
“You'll have it.”
“Where are you going?”
Daniel looked toward the road.
“To find my father.”
The house was dark when Daniel arrived.
Every light had been turned off.
The front door was unlocked.
He stepped inside.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
He walked through the hallway.
“Carmen?”
Still nothing.
Then he heard footsteps upstairs.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Daniel reached for the gun beneath his jacket.
He climbed the stairs.
A man stood at the end of the corridor.
Older.
Tall.
Silver hair.
A black coat.
Daniel stopped breathing.
The man looked at him.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Daniel's weapon lowered slightly.
“Dad?”
The man smiled.
“You've grown.”
Daniel stared.
“You're dead.”
“So everyone was told.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother needed me to disappear.”
Daniel's heart pounded.
“You took Sofia.”
The man's expression hardened.
“No.”
“You lied about her.”
“Yes.”
“You put Camila in M-17.”
The man said nothing.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Where is Camila?”
His father looked at him.
“I don't have her.”
“Then who does?”
“You've finally begun asking the right question.”
Daniel grabbed his father's coat.
“Where is my daughter?”
The older man didn't resist.
Instead, he whispered:
“She's the reason I came back.”
Meanwhile, Mariana and Isabel emerged from the tunnel into an abandoned warehouse.
Mariana immediately called Daniel.
No answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
“Where are we?”
“Three blocks from the old rail station.”
“Why here?”
“Because nobody uses it.”
Mariana looked at the M-17 file.
“We need to know what this means.”
Isabel shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“My daughter is missing.”
“And the people who took her want you to panic.”
“They succeeded.”
“Then don't give them more.”
Mariana stared at her.
“You said Sofia was alive.”
“She is.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I knew, I'd already be dead.”
Mariana went silent.
Isabel opened an old metal cabinet.
Inside was a laptop.
She turned it on.
The screen displayed dozens of files.
Mariana recognized several names.
Carmen Herrera.
Daniel Herrera.
Sofia Herrera.
And one name that made her heart stop.
MARIANA TORRES.
“What is that?”
Isabel looked at her.
“Your husband.”
Mariana frowned.
“What?”
“Daniel has been living two lives.”
Daniel's father led him into a private study.
The room smelled of dust and tobacco.
Old photographs covered the walls.
Daniel saw himself as a child.
Sofia.
His mother.
His father.
And another photograph.
A newborn baby.
Daniel walked toward it.
“Who is that?”
His father didn't answer.
Daniel picked it up.
The back contained a date.
The same date as the beginning of M-17.
He looked at his father.
“Who is this?”
“You already know.”
“No.”
“You just refuse to remember.”
Daniel's breathing became shallow.
His father pointed toward a locked cabinet.
“Open it.”
Daniel did.
Inside were passports.
Dozens of them.
Different names.
Different photographs.
Different identities.
Daniel stared.
“What is this?”
“My second life.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You've been alive all these years.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Why?”
“To protect what your mother tried to destroy.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Protect?”
His father looked at him.
“Your mother didn't tell you about the night Sofia disappeared.”
“No.”
“She told you Sofia died.”
“Yes.”
“She lied.”
“What happened?”
His father opened a drawer.
Inside was a cassette tape.
Old.
Dusty.
He placed it on the desk.
“This is the last recording your mother made before Sofia vanished.”
Daniel stared at it.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Because you weren't ready.”
“I'm thirty-four.”
“You were five when it happened.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What happened when I was five?”
His father answered:
“Sofia wasn't the only child in that room.”
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
“There were two babies.”
Silence.
Daniel stared at him.
“Who was the other one?”
His father looked directly into his eyes.
“Camila.”
Daniel's heart stopped.
“That can't be true.”
“Not biologically.”
“Then what?”
“She was connected to the same program.”
Daniel stepped back.
“You're saying Camila was part of M-17 before she was born?”
“Yes.”
“That's impossible.”
“Not to the people who created it.”
Daniel's voice shook.
“Who created it?”
His father didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
“Your wife.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“Mariana's father was one of the architects.”
Daniel stared at him.
“No.”
“He wasn't just a businessman.”
“Stop.”
“He helped create the system.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Daniel grabbed the edge of the desk.
“What did he do?”
“He helped identify children who could be used as genetic matches for wealthy families.”
Daniel's face went pale.
“And Sofia?”
“She was one of them.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“And Camila?”
“Your daughter was never supposed to be in the system.”
“Then why was she?”
“Because someone entered her.”
“Who?”
His father looked at him.
“You.”
Daniel recoiled.
“No.”
“You signed the preliminary authorization.”
“I was a child.”
“You didn't understand what you were signing.”
“Then why did you let me?”
“Because your mother threatened to let Sofia die.”
Daniel stared at him.
The truth was beginning to take shape.
His mother had not merely manipulated him.
She had built his entire life around fear.
At the warehouse, Mariana watched the computer screen.
There were encrypted folders.
Photographs.
Financial transfers.
Messages.
Then Isabel opened one file.
D-HERRERA / SECONDARY IDENTITY
Mariana stared.
“What does that mean?”
Isabel clicked.
A photograph appeared.
Daniel.
But older.
Different clothes.
Different hair.
Standing beside another woman.
Mariana's blood ran cold.
“Who is she?”
Isabel didn't answer.
The next photograph appeared.
Daniel entering a private building.
The next.
Daniel meeting a man.
The next.
Daniel holding a newborn baby.
Mariana stopped breathing.
“That's not Camila.”
“No.”
“Whose baby is that?”
Isabel looked away.
“We don't know.”
Mariana stared at the screen.
“Daniel has another child?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
Isabel finally answered.
“Sofia's.”
Mariana looked at her.
“What?”
“Daniel has been secretly supporting Sofia for years.”
Mariana's heart pounded.
“He knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And he lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep her alive.”
Mariana turned away.
Tears filled her eyes.
She had spent years believing Daniel had simply stopped loving her.
Now she wasn't sure whether she had ever known him at all.
Daniel's father pressed play on the cassette.
Static filled the room.
Then Carmen's younger voice.
“It's done.”
A man's voice answered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“And the children?”
A pause.
“The girl will disappear.”
“And the boy?”
“He will forget.”
Daniel's blood ran cold.
The recording continued.
Then another voice spoke.
A voice he recognized.
His mother's.
“If Mariana ever discovers what happened…”
The recording crackled.
“…we will lose everything.”
Daniel stared at his father.
“That's Carmen.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
The tape continued.
A baby began crying.
Then Carmen screamed:
“Take her!”
Footsteps.
A door slammed.
Then silence.
Daniel looked horrified.
“Who was the baby?”
His father didn't answer.
“Who was it?”
The old man finally whispered:
“Sofia.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“And the other baby?”
His father looked at him.
“Camila's mother.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“What?”
“Mariana was involved before you ever met her.”
At that exact moment, Mariana's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A child's voice whispered:
“Mommy?”
Mariana froze.
“Camila?”
“Yes.”
Mariana's entire body shook.
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Who is with you?”
Silence.
Then Camila whispered:
“The nice lady.”
Mariana's heart stopped.
“What nice lady?”
“The one with the bird.”
Isabel's face went pale.
“Camila, listen to Mommy.”
“I am.”
“Can you see a door?”
“Yes.”
“Is it red?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what's outside?”
Camila was silent.
Then she whispered:
“There's a picture.”
“What picture?”
“A picture of you.”
Mariana closed her eyes.
“Camila, stay where you are.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Why does the picture say I'm not your daughter?”
Mariana's breath disappeared.
“Camila—”
The line went dead.
Mariana stared at the phone.
Isabel grabbed her shoulders.
“What did she say?”
Mariana looked at her.
Her voice was barely audible.
“She said there's a picture saying she's not my daughter.”
Isabel went completely still.
Then she whispered:
“That's impossible.”
Mariana's eyes filled with tears.
“Is it?”
Isabel didn't answer.
Across the city, Daniel stood in the doorway of his father's study.
His phone began ringing.
Mariana.
He answered.
“Mariana?”
Her voice was trembling.
“Where are you?”
“With my father.”
“What?”
“He's alive.”
Silence.
Then:
“Daniel, there's something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Camila was taken.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Someone showed her a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“A photograph saying she isn't my daughter.”
Daniel's blood froze.
“Mariana…”
“I need the truth.”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
“I swear I don't.”
“Then ask your father.”
Daniel looked toward the old man.
His father had heard every word.
He shook his head slowly.
Daniel asked:
“Dad…”
“Yes?”
“Is Camila my daughter?”
The old man looked at him.
And for the first time since Daniel had seen him again, the man looked genuinely afraid.
“Yes.”
Daniel exhaled.
Mariana was still on the phone.
“But…”
Daniel's heart sank.
His father continued:
“She is your daughter.”
A pause.
“But she was never registered as your daughter.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because the woman who gave birth to her…”
His father stopped.
Daniel's voice cracked.
“Who?”
The old man looked directly at him.
“Wasn't Mariana.”
Daniel dropped the phone.
For several seconds, he could hear nothing.
Then the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
Mariana.
His wife.
The mother he had believed gave birth to his child.
The woman he had loved.
The woman he had betrayed.
The woman who had just lost her daughter.
Daniel looked at his father.
“What are you saying?”
His father whispered:
“The baby you brought home wasn't the baby born in that hospital.”
Daniel's face turned white.
And suddenly the balcony incident made sense.
The secret records.
M-17.
Sofia.
The forged medical files.
The strange woman watching Camila.
Everything.
Someone had switched the children.
And if that was true—
May you like
Mariana's daughter was somewhere else.
And someone had spent three years making sure she never discovered it.
