The man everyone expected to bury moved his hand and curled his fingers around my son’s blanket. I stood frozen by the bed, convinced I had imagined the movement.

The sound of footsteps climbing the marble staircase sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. I backed away from the balcony window and ducked quietly into the service alcove beside Gonzalo’s room, holding Leo snugly against my chest to muffle any sound he might make.

Valeria and Dr. Barragán walked past my hiding spot without noticing me.

"Make sure the dose today finishes the job by Friday," Valeria said in a low, sharp tone as they reached the door. "Mauricio is growing nervous. He spent three million dollars on options for the transport expansion yesterday, betting on company funds he doesn't officially control yet. If the board demands his resignation on Monday, we are all ruined."

"Don't worry, Valeria," Barragán replied smoothly. "The toxin causes cumulative respiratory depression. Today's injection will reduce his diaphragm function by another forty percent. By Friday morning, his heart simply won't have the oxygen it needs to keep beating."

They pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

I stood frozen in the alcove, my heart hammering against my ribs. Friday. I had only three days left. Today was Tuesday. If I didn't find a way to neutralize Barragán’s poison completely, Gonzalo wouldn't survive until the board meeting on the thirty-first.

I waited two minutes, ensuring they were fully engaged inside, then tiptoed down the back hallway to the staff room. I placed Leo safely in his portable crib, handed him his favorite rubber teething ring, and locked the door behind me.

I needed tools. I needed evidence. And most importantly, I needed to know what was in the master suite's private office.

Gonzalo’s private study was located directly adjacent to his bedroom, connected by a heavy set of mahogany double doors that had remained locked since he first became bedridden. Mauricio carried the only key on his brass keyring. But as a caregiver responsible for cleaning every corner of the suite, I knew something Mauricio didn't: the old service duct in the master bathroom shared a drywall partition with the study's built-in bookshelf.

I hurried back up the rear stairs, slipping into the master bathroom while Barragán and Valeria were still standing over Gonzalo’s bed in the adjoining room.

Through the thick wooden door, I could hear Barragán’s voice humming as he prepared the syringe.

"There we go... nice and easy," Barragán murmured. "A little pinch, Mr. Alcázar."

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that Gonzalo was holding his breath and mentally preparing himself for the drug. I couldn't stop Barragán today—doing so in front of Valeria would get me fired and arrested instantly. My only move was to flush his line the second they left.

In the bathroom, I stepped onto the marble vanity, unlatched the brass ventilation grate near the ceiling, and reached inside. The ventilation cavity was dusty and narrow, but behind the aluminum ducting lay a loose access panel installed years ago for plumbing maintenance.

I pushed the panel open and peered into the darkness of Gonzalo’s private study.

The room was pristine, smelling of old leather, paper, and imported tobacco. Sunlight streamed through tall arched windows, illuminating a massive walnut desk in the center of the room.

And sitting right behind the desk was Mauricio.

I gasped quietly, pulling back into the shadows of the vent.

Mauricio wasn't in the bedroom with his mother and the doctor. He was in the study, crouched down beside a massive wall safe concealed behind a floor-to-ceiling oil painting of the Alcázar family line.

The painting had been swung open on its hidden hinges. Mauricio was holding a small silver diagnostic tablet connected via USB cable to the electronic keypad of the safe, running a brute-force decryption program.

"Come on... come on, you old bastard..." Mauricio muttered under his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cool room temperature. "Where did you put the master key code?"

The tablet chimed softly with a green light.

ACCESS GRANTED.

Mauricio let out a breathy, triumphant laugh. He swung the heavy steel door of the safe open and began digging through stacks of bound legal documents, velvet jewelry boxes, and gold bars.

He ignored the money. He was searching for something specific.

Finally, his fingers locked onto a thick, red leather ledger bound with a heavy brass clasp.

"Found it," Mauricio whispered, his voice trembling with manic excitement. "The original shareholder registry."

He flipped the ledger open to the center pages, pulled a sleek pen from his breast pocket, and began carefully reviewing the entries.

From my perch inside the ventilation shaft, I realized what he was doing. Gonzalo had told me that Mauricio forged his signature on offshore transfers, but the company’s original charter required the physical ledger—stamped with the founder's wet-ink seal—to transfer primary voting control during an emergency board session.

Without this ledger, Mauricio’s forged digital signatures were worthless under corporate law. With it, he could seize absolute control of the entire transportation empire the second Gonzalo was pronounced dead.

Mauricio pulled a small glass bottle from his pocket—a bottle of chemical ink dissolver. He dipped a fine cotton swab into the liquid and carefully touched it to the parchment, erasing Gonzalo’s name from the master share block.

He wasn't just waiting for his uncle to die. He was actively erasing Gonzalo’s entire legal existence before the body was even cold.

Suddenly, the connecting door from the bedroom opened, and Valeria stepped into the study.

"Is it done?" she asked, her voice sharp and anxious.

Mauricio didn't even look up from his work. "Almost. The encryption bypass took longer than expected, but I have the ledger. Barragán gave him the dose?"

"Yes," Valeria said, leaning against the edge of the walnut desk. "Barragán says his breathing is already faltering. He guaranteed he won't survive past Thursday night."

"Thursday is perfect," Mauricio said, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he blotted the wet parchment with a blotter sheet. "That gives us Friday to organize the press release and secure the temporary chairmanship before the board meeting on Monday. By the time the auditors open their mouths, I’ll be the undisputed majority owner of Alcázar Logistics."

Valeria looked down at the ledger, a flicker of hesitation passing over her face. "And the caregiver? The girl with the baby?"

"What about her?" Mauricio asked dismissively.

"She spends a lot of time in that room, Mauricio. What if she notices something? She was asking Elena about Dr. Barragán’s visits yesterday."

Mauricio paused, setting his pen down on the blotter. His eyes turned cold and calculating.

"She’s a nobody," Mauricio said, his tone dropping into a chilling register. "A penniless peasant with a bastard child. But if she gets in the way, we'll handle her. Once Gonzalo is dead, we'll accuse her of stealing jewelry from the master suite. The police will lock her up, the child will go to state custody, and nobody will listen to a word she says."

My blood turned to ice. My hands began to shake so violently against the vent frame that a tiny fleck of dry plaster broke loose and drifted down into the ductwork, making a soft pinging sound against the metal.

Valeria whipped her head toward the ceiling. "What was that?"

"Just the building pipes expanding," Mauricio said, unconcerned, as he closed the red ledger and shoved it into his leather briefcase. "This place is half a century old. Come on, let's go downstairs and drink to our new future."

They closed the safe, swung the oil painting back into place, and walked out of the study, locking the heavy mahogany doors behind them.

I pulled myself back into the master bathroom, dropping silently down onto the marble counter. My knees felt weak, and my entire body was dripping with cold sweat.

They weren't just going to kill Gonzalo. They were planning to destroy my life, lock me in prison, and tear my baby away from me the second their murder was complete.

I didn't have time to be terrified anymore. Fear was a luxury for people who had choices.

I grabbed a clean 50ml medical syringe from my apron pocket—one I had brought up from the supply closet earlier—and ran straight into Gonzalo’s bedroom.

Gonzalo was lying motionless, his face pale gray, his chest barely rising. The new dose of Barragán’s paralyzing agent was already coursing through his veins.

"Mr. Gonzalo!" I whispered urgently, rushing to the IV line.

I clamped the upper tube to stop any more drug from flowing down from the bag, attached my syringe to the secondary port, and rapidly drew out 30 milliliters of the poisoned fluid directly from his catheter line.

Then, I uncapped a fresh bottle of sterile saline solution I had hidden in my pocket, filled the syringe, and injected pure saline back into his line to flush the remaining toxin out of his arm tissues.

I repeated the process three times until the fluid in the line ran completely clear.

For ten agonizing minutes, nothing happened. Gonzalo lay entirely still, his pulse faint and thready under my fingers.

"Please," I sobbed quietly, squeezing his cold hand. "Please, Mr. Gonzalo, wake up. You have to fight this. They're going to destroy everything."

Suddenly, Gonzalo took a sharp, gasping breath.

His eyes snapped open, wide and filled with raw panic, as his chest heaved against the mattress. The clear saline had diluted the paralysis just enough for his nervous system to reboot.

He turned his head toward me, his fingers closing tightly around my wrist with surprising strength.

"I... heard them..." Gonzalo wheezed out, his voice rough but clear. "The... ledger..."

"Mauricio has it in his briefcase," I told him quickly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "He altered the shareholder signatures. They're planning to frame me for theft and take my baby the moment you die!"

Gonzalo’s eyes burned with a fierce, terrifying fury.

"They won't... take... your child," Gonzalo growled, every word a battle against his recovering muscles. "We are going... to ruin them."

"How?" I asked. "You can barely sit up!"