The Betrayed Heiress novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: The Door
I opened my eyes and heard them forcing the door.
A dull thud.
Then another.
Old wood creaking, a latch giving way.
I stayed still, my heart pounding against my chest, not understanding where I was.
Then I understood.
I was in the living room of the house in Tapalpa, sitting on the green velvet sofa, a cup of cold tea between my hands.
Across from me, standing by the cold fireplace, was my mother.
Alive.
In her gray sweater, gray hair pulled back, watching me with a furrowed brow.
"Damaris, did you hear that?"
My mother.
The last time I saw her, she was on the floor of the hallway, a knife buried in her side.
She had my hand in hers and was telling me to run.
My throat closed up.
"Mom," I said.
"Sweetheart, are you okay? You're pale."
Another thud.
A louder crack.
Behind the front door, in the foyer, I heard men's voices.
Low.
Impatient.
I jumped to my feet.
The cup hit the floor and shattered.
It all came back to me at once.
That afternoon, my brother Eugenio had taken the family's twelve bodyguards to a hill on the outskirts.
He wanted to give his mistress a night under the stars.
Our enemies had had their eyes on us for months.
They were distributors from Michoacán whose contract Eugenio had stolen with a trick.
The door giving way.
My mother, stepping in front of it.
My death, years later, at the hands of that same brother, the night my father promised me the company.
I had come back to the beginning.
To the exact minute of the beginning.
"Mom," I said, taking her hands. "Listen to me. Don't ask questions. Come with me."
"What's going on?"
"Later. Now."
I dragged her out of the living room, down the stone hallway, toward the back of the house.
Behind us, the front door burst open.
I heard boots, voices, the clatter of metal.
"Search everything! The kids have to be inside!"
I ran.
I didn't look back.
My mother followed, one hand on her chest, gasping.
We reached the library.
Ten years ago, my father had had a safe room built behind the mahogany bookcase.
It had a steel door, three days' worth of food, and a radio.
Nobody ever used it.
In my past life, I didn't remember it until it was too late.
I pressed the spine of the third encyclopedia.
The bookcase swung open with a click.
"What is this?" my mother whispered.
"Get in."
"Damaris..."
"Get in, Mom. Please."
I pushed her inside.
I closed the steel door.
The heavy thud of the bolts echoed.
I stayed outside.
It was the decision I'd made from the very first second.
I wasn't going to hide.
Someone had to raise the alarm.
I pulled my phone from my pants pocket.
It was ten fifteen at night.
I dialed a number I had never called before, but that I knew by heart.
Abel Quiroga.
The head of security.
He answered on the first ring.
"Miss Arriaga."
"Abel. They're inside the house."
"I know. I heard them."
"Where are you?"
"In the weapons cellar. I was left alone when Mr. Eugenio took the team. I'm on my way."
"There are six. Maybe seven."
"I know."
"Through the front door."
"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and very calm. "Stay where you are. Don't move. I'll be with you in two minutes."
"My mother is in the safe room."
There was a very brief silence.
"Understood."
He hung up.
I took a deep breath.
I hid behind the stone column in the hallway, my back pressed against the wall.
Through the gap, I saw two men pass by.
Black balaclavas.
Long guns.
One of them sniffed the air, like a dog.
"Here! It smells like tea!"
They came closer.
I held my breath.
Suddenly, a huge shadow dropped from the second-floor balcony.
It was a tall man in a dark suit, landing on his knees.
He got up and, in a single motion, took down the first one with a blow to the back of the neck.
The second one raised his weapon.
He never got to fire.
A dry, precise shot ripped the rifle out of his hands.
The man screamed and fell.
Abel Quiroga.
He was drawing his pistol from a holster under his arm, his face calm.
He had a split brow marked by a scar I had never looked at before.
He saw me.
"Miss."
"I'm fine."
"Get out of here. Through the kitchen. There's a truck."
"No."
"Miss..."
"My mother is behind that wall. I'm not leaving."
He looked at me for a second.
Then, to my surprise, he nodded.
"Behind me."
We moved down the hallway, our backs against the wall.
Abel went first, gun raised.
I followed, holding an iron lamp I'd ripped from its bracket.
We heard four shots.
Then screams.
Then a long silence.
When we rounded the corner into the living room corridor, there were three men on the floor and two fleeing through the broken door.
Abel fired into the air.
Outside, a truck engine roared to life, and then there was only silence.
The house lay in ruins, smelling of gunpowder.
Abel lowered his weapon.
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
He had a cut on his cheek, his shirt torn at the shoulder.
"It's over," he said. "They're gone."
My knees were shaking.
"Any wounded?"
"Three of them. One's alive." He pointed to the man with the rifle, lying by the column, his hand bleeding. "We'll have to interrogate him."
"My mom first."
We went back to the library.
I opened the security room with the code.
My mother was sitting on a wooden chair, hands clasped, calm.
When she saw me, she stood up and hugged me.
With a strength I hadn't expected.
"My girl," she murmured into my hair. "My girl."
"I'm fine, Mom."
"How did you know?"
"I didn't."
"Liar."
"A little."
She pulled back.
She took my face in her hands.
She looked at me for a long time, with brown eyes that were no longer those of a woman who doesn't understand.
They were a mother's eyes.
"You'll tell me later," she said, softly.
I nodded.
That night I called my brother.
Once.
In the previous life I had called him a thousand times, hands shaking and voice broken.
This time I did it calmly, from the living room sofa, while Abel tied up the wounded man and called the doctors.
He answered on the fifth ring.
"What do you want?"
I could hear music.
Women's laughter.
The wind.
"Eugenio. The house in Tapalpa was attacked."
"And?"
"We're alive. Mom and I."
"Good."
"I want you to come back."
"I'm busy, Damaris."
"Eugenio."
"We're watching the stars. It's a once-in-a-lifetime night. Don't fuck with me."
"Mom almost died."
"You always exaggerate."
He hung up.
I stood there with the phone in my hand.
Abel came over.
He was holding a notebook soaked in blood.
"The wounded man had this in his pocket."
"What is it?"
"A note. With the house's directions. The guards' shifts. The gate code."
I took it.
It was written in small, round handwriting—a woman's.
And at the bottom, in blue ink, a phrase:
"There won't be anyone today. Your son will take everyone away. Wait until ten."
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