Chapter 7 - THE EMPTY GARAGE
My father wasn’t dead.
But for six hours, none of us knew that.
Police found his car near an industrial park outside Getafe.
There was blood on the driver’s door.
His phone was inside.
He was gone.
My mother blamed me immediately.
“This is because of you.”
We were speaking through Carmen’s phone because I refused to give my mother direct access to me.
“You could have signed the papers.”
“You could have helped your father.”
Carmen took the phone away.
“That’s enough.”
For once, somebody stopped my mother before I had to.
Mateo sat beside me.
“Don’t listen to her.”
But I did.
Old habits don’t disappear just because you finally understand them.
Part of me still wondered whether I had caused everything.
Then I looked at Alba.
And I imagined telling my daughter one day that she had to surrender what belonged to her because somebody else might become angry.
The guilt disappeared.
“No.”
Mateo looked at me.
“What?”
“I’m not signing anything.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Good.”
At 3:14 a.m., police found my father.
He walked into an emergency clinic eight kilometers from where his car had been abandoned.
His nose was broken.
Two ribs were fractured.
He had a cut above his eyebrow.
But he was alive.
And terrified.
Carmen questioned him.
By sunrise, she returned to us.
“He’s cooperating.”
“With what?”
“A fraud investigation.”
My father had finally told them everything.
Sergio had been using struggling property owners to obtain loans through false documents.
My father became involved after losing money in a failed construction investment.
At first, he believed Sergio was helping him.
Then the debts grew.
Sergio learned Grandma had transferred the Getafe house to me.
He saw an opportunity.
My father provided copies of my identification.
Old signatures.
Bank information.
My mother knew about the planned sale.
Noelia knew enough to understand that getting me out of the house was important.
But none of them knew how far Sergio intended to go.
“Who attacked Dad?”
I asked.
“We’re still investigating.”
Carmen paused.
“But your father believes it was connected to Sergio.”
The police searched Sergio’s apartment.
He was gone.
Noelia claimed she had no idea where he was.
Nobody believed her.
Especially me.
That afternoon, I was finally discharged.
We couldn’t return to our apartment yet.
And I refused to go near my parents.
Andrés arranged temporary accommodation for us in a small furnished apartment owned by his sister.
Mateo carried Alba inside.
I walked slowly behind him.
No screaming.
No mother criticizing me.
No father sighing.
No sister demanding something.
Just silence.
I started crying.
Mateo thought I was hurting.
“No.”
I looked around the tiny apartment.
“I think this is the first place I’ve ever been where nobody is angry at me.”
He put Alba in her bassinet.
Then he held me.
“You’re home wherever nobody makes you afraid to exist.”
That night, Alba woke at 2:08.
Mateo got up first.
Then we heard another sound.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
At the apartment door.
May you like
Mateo froze.
Nobody was supposed to know where we were.
