CHAPTER 2 – PART 3
Lying on the floor, my vision blurred and my ribs burning with every breath, I watched Valeria walk toward me.
There wasn't a trace of concern on her face.
If anything...
She looked like she was enjoying every second of my humiliation.
She stopped directly in front of me.
My eyes fell to her shoes.
A pair of sandals she'd taken from the inventory at Linh Nguyễn Shop months earlier.
I remembered carefully packing them for her, thinking she'd love them.
The irony was almost unbearable.
"Look at you," Valeria said coldly, staring down at me.
The woman standing over me no longer resembled the person I'd shared a bed, dreams, and bills with for the past ten years.
She looked like a complete stranger.
A stranger who hated me with an intensity I couldn't even begin to understand.
"Did you honestly think you could beat Héctor?"
She laughed softly.
"You're pathetic."
"A shoe salesman who thinks he's somebody because he owns an old apartment in Mexico City."
"Just hand over the boy."
"You'll save yourself another beating."
I spat blood onto the floor before answering.
"Why... Valeria?"
My voice barely came out.
"Why are you doing this?"
"My parents..."
"Our son..."
"What happened to you?"
She let out a dry laugh.
The sound blended with my mother's muffled sobs coming from the hallway.
"I got tired of you," she said without the slightest hint of guilt.
"I got tired of your cheap life."
"I got tired of taking care of your old parents who can't even make it to the bathroom by themselves."
She leaned closer, close enough that I could see the contempt in her eyes.
"I deserve better."
"Héctor can give me everything you never could."
"We're moving north."
"To Tijuana."
"And Mateo is coming with us."
"He'll finally have a real life."
"Héctor has real money."
"Not the crumbs you earn selling shoes."
The moment she said Tijuana, a chill shot through my body.
If they crossed the border with Mateo...
I might never see him again.
Mexico's legal system could move painfully slowly.
By the time police caught up...
My son could already be gone.
I had to get up.
No matter what it cost.
Using the couch for support, I struggled onto one knee.
As I looked back toward the hallway...
My heart nearly stopped.
My father...
Eighty-eight years old...
His back already shattered from the golf club...
Had somehow forced himself onto his knees.
His arthritic hands were wrapped around Héctor's jeans, desperately trying to stop him from reaching Mateo.
"Please..."
His voice was barely audible.
"Leave my grandson alone..."
Héctor glanced down.
Annoyance spread across his face.
There wasn't a shred of compassion in his eyes.
Only irritation.
"I'm sick of you, old man," he muttered.
Without warning...
He drove his boot straight into my father's chest.
The kick landed with horrifying force.
Arturo's frail body flew backward.
He slammed against the hallway wall before collapsing sideways onto the floor.
He didn't move.
His eyes closed.
The ragged breathing I'd heard moments earlier...
Stopped.
"DAD!"
My mother's scream echoed through the apartment.
"No!"
"Oh God!"
"Arturo!"
She threw herself over him, shaking his shoulders frantically.
"Wake up!"
"Please don't leave me!"
"My son..."
"Your father isn't responding!"
Watching his grandfather collapse transformed Mateo's fear into pure panic.
A heartbreaking scream escaped my little boy.
He covered his face with both hands and backed into the corner of the hallway.
Héctor didn't even look at him.
He simply took the final two steps forward.
He grabbed Mateo by the left arm.
Hard.
Too hard.
He yanked him off the floor as though he weighed nothing.
"Let me go!"
"Dad!"
"Help me!"
"I don't want to go with them!"
Mateo kicked wildly.
His legs flailed helplessly in the air.
"Shut up, you little brat!" Héctor barked.
He violently jerked Mateo's arm.
I heard my son cry out in pain.
For a terrifying moment, I thought his shoulder had been dislocated.
Then Héctor tucked Mateo under one arm like a sack of groceries.
Ignoring every desperate punch my son landed against his back.
Valeria smiled.
A smile of satisfaction.
She slowly turned toward me one last time.
"Let's go, Héctor."
"We've got what we came for."
"Leave this loser here with his old people."
I was still on the living room floor.
My knee throbbed.
My ribs felt like broken glass.
Blood dripped from my eyebrow.
And all I could do was watch...
As they carried my son toward the front door.
Mateo's screams grew weaker with every step.
The helplessness nearly drove me insane.
I couldn't stay down.
If I died tonight...
Then I'd die fighting for my son.
I refused to become the man who lay on the floor while his entire life was stolen from him.
Using the television cabinet for support, I dragged myself upright.
Picture frames...
Magazines...
Everything crashed onto the floor around me.
Stars exploded across my vision as pain ripped through my ribs.
I doubled over, struggling to breathe.
Still...
I limped toward the apartment entrance.
Each step felt like torture.
My lungs burned.
My legs threatened to give out beneath me.
But all I could hear...
Was Mateo crying for me.
Héctor already had one hand on the apartment door.
He held Mateo securely beneath his other arm while my son continued fighting desperately.
Valeria had already stepped into the hallway outside.
She glanced both directions, making sure none of the neighbors had come out after hearing the shattered window.
"Leave him..."
The words barely escaped my throat.
Hoarse.
Weak.
I stumbled forward and grabbed the back of Héctor's black shirt just before he crossed the doorway.
He stopped.
He didn't even bother putting Mateo down.
Instead...
He slowly turned his head.
His eyes settled on my hand.
Then on my face.
There was something terrifying in his expression.
The look of someone who had done this before.
Someone who knew exactly how far he was willing to go.
"You're one stubborn bastard," he said quietly.
"I warned you..."
"Don't make me angry."
Before I could react...
His knee slammed directly into my stomach.
The impact folded me in half.
My grip disappeared instantly.
I dropped to my knees in the doorway.
A mouthful of bile and blood splattered across the floor.
The pain was so overwhelming...
Everything went black for several seconds.
Somewhere beyond the darkness...
I heard Mateo screaming my name.
Then...
The heavy metal door to the emergency stairwell slammed shut.
They were gone.
They had taken my son.
I remained collapsed in the entrance of my own home.
Broken.
Defeated.
Behind me, my mother's heartbreaking cries continued echoing through the apartment.
She was still kneeling beside my father.
The silence that followed after the stairwell door closed was the most terrifying sound I had ever heard.
My business...
My savings...
Everything I'd worked for...
None of it mattered anymore.
All that remained...
Was blood staining my living room floor...
And the memory of my son's desperate voice begging me to save him.
I dragged myself down the hallway using my elbows.
My legs barely responded anymore.
I had to reach my parents.
I had to see whether my father was still alive.
When I entered the bedroom...
My mother was kneeling beside him.
Her white shirt had turned crimson.
Blood spread across the fabric as she pressed desperately against his wounds.
My father lay motionless.
His eyes closed.
His skin had turned pale gray.
His lips were split and stained with blood.
"My son..."
My mother sobbed uncontrollably.
"Your father isn't breathing right..."
"He's slipping away..."
With trembling fingers stained red, I pulled my phone from my pocket.
The screen smeared with blood as I dialed 911.
Each ring felt endless.
While waiting for someone to answer...
I looked toward the shattered living room window.
Cold night air drifted into the apartment.
The curtains swayed like ghosts.
Outside...
Mexico City continued moving as though nothing had happened.
Traffic still flowed.
People still lived their lives.
While mine had just been destroyed.
The nightmare was only beginning.
My father lay on the edge of death.
My mother was emotionally shattered.
And my seven-year-old son was in the hands of a violent criminal and the woman who had once sworn to love him.
I knew the police might take hours.
If they acted at all.
If I wanted Mateo back...
If I wanted justice...
I couldn't depend on anyone else.
I'd have to find them myself.
Even if it meant following them straight into hell.
Finally...
A calm professional voice came through the speaker.
"911. What is your emergency?"
I looked once more at my father's motionless body...
My mother's desperate face...
And the trail of blood leading toward the front door where my son had been taken.
I took a slow breath despite the stabbing pain in my ribs.
When I spoke...
The voice that came out no longer sounded like mine.
It was cold.
Empty.
Every trace of fear had disappeared.
Only one thing remained.
A promise.
May you like
And I intended to keep it.
To be continued...
