Chapter 4 A Truth Worse Than Lie

• Valentina didn’t sleep that night.
• She sat on the edge of her bed, the pale light of the moon casting long shadows across the floor. Her fingers played with the edge of her notebook, but her mind was still in the cellar with Mateo’s voice like ice in her ears.
• “You’re not who you say you are.”
• She had been so careful.
• Every step of her plan had been calculated. The false documents. The fabricated background. The carefully curated articles to give “Eva Delgado” a real career. But Mateo had seen through it in less than forty-eight hours.
• He wasn’t just suspicious.
• He was watching her.
• Valentina got up, pulled on a long-sleeved blouse and jeans, and quietly slipped out of the room. The guards stationed outside barely moved as she walked past, giving her the illusion of freedom.
• But she knew better.
• The villa was a golden cage. And she was being weighed from the inside out.
• She went to the library.
• It was the only room in the villa that felt untouched by violence. Books lined every wall ancient, modern, translated. A single reading lamp illuminated the corner chair.
• She ran her fingers along the spines until she found it a red leather-bound ledger. The crest of the Cordero family embossed in gold.
• Inside were names. Dates. Accounts. Blood disguised as business.
• She flipped to the years that mattered: 2011.
• The year her family died.
• The pages were coded, but she recognized two things immediately: her father’s name Miguel Cruz and the date of the massacre.
• Beside it, a single word: “Termination. Cleared.”
• Her breath caught.
• So it was real. Her father had been targeted.
• But why?
• She scanned the adjacent lines and found other names. One stood out.
• Hernan Delgado.
• Her father’s business partner. Trusted friend. Godfather to her younger brother before he died.
• Delgado’s name wasn’t marked for termination.
• He was marked as “asset acquired.”
• Her stomach turned.
• She slammed the book shut.
• He betrayed them.
• All these years, she’d believed it was the Cordero's who’d targeted her family out of power, out of control. But what if it hadn’t been so simple?
• What if her father had been betrayed from within and the Cordero's had simply cleaned up the mess?
• She felt dizzy.
• Then a voice cut through the silence.
• “You weren’t supposed to find that.”
• Rafael stood in the doorway, barefoot, shirt loose, the top two buttons undone.
• Valentina froze.
• “How long have you been watching me?”
• “I watch everyone,” he said. “But I didn’t expect you here. Not tonight.”
• She wanted to lie. Say she couldn’t sleep. Say she was just curious.
• But she was tired of lies.
• “I was looking for answers,” she said, voice low.
• “And did you find any?”
• Her eyes met his. “Did you kill my father?”
• The question hung in the air between them.
• Rafael stepped into the room. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked to the cabinet and poured two glasses of water. He handed her one.
• “No,” he said finally. “I didn’t.”
• She wanted to believe him. But how could she?
• “Then why is his name in your family’s kill book?”
• Rafael looked at the ledger, then at her.
• “Because your father got greedy. He partnered with my father on a weapons shipment. Then tried to take it for himself.”
• Valentina’s mouth went dry.
• “That doesn’t sound like him.”
• “You were a child,” Rafael said. “You saw your father through a daughter’s eyes. I saw him through a rifle scope.”
• She backed away.
• “You expect me to believe he deserved it?”
• “No,” Rafael said. “I expect you to decide what you’re going to do with the truth.”
• She stared at him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t defensive.
• He was just… tired.
• Of the blood. Of the past. Of the weight of someone else’s sins.
• “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she whispered.
• “Then stay until you do.”
• The next morning, Valentina woke to a knock on her door.
• It wasn’t a guard.
• It was Doña Marisol.
• The older woman held a small folder in her hands and walked in without permission, as if she owned the room.
• “I assume Rafael didn’t tell you everything,” she said, settling into a chair.
• Valentina sat up, confused. “About what?”
• “Your father,” Marisol said, laying the folder on her lap. “And Delgado.”
• Valentina froze.
• “I knew Delgado,” Marisol continued. “He came here often. Always smiling. Always polite. But he was rotten. Your father never saw it. None of us did.”
• She opened the folder.
• Photos. Copies of letters. Contracts. Surveillance reports.
• Delgado had been working with El Sombra—a rival cartel boss. Feeding him information. Setting up an ambush.
• “And your father?” Valentina asked quietly.
• “Killed for trusting the wrong man,” Marisol said. “Rafael tried to stop the order. He was sixteen. No one listened to him then.”
• Valentina stared at the photos.
• The truth was worse than any lie.
• Her entire life had been built on ashes on grief that had no face. And now, the face of her enemy was no longer Rafael Cordero.
• It was the man she never thought to suspect.
• Hernan Delgado.
• That night, Valentina stood on the same balcony where she’d once planned Rafael’s downfall.
• He stepped beside her, quiet.
• “You read it?” he asked.
• “Yes.”
• “And?”
• “You didn’t kill my family,” she said slowly. “But someone did. And I want the man who did.”
• Rafael nodded. “Then stay.”
• Her eyes searched his. “And what do you want in return?”
• He leaned in, his voice almost a whisper.
• “You.”
• Her breath caught.
• Not just her body. Not just her story.
• He wanted her flaws, fire, fury and all.
• And for the first time, Valentina didn’t know if that was a threat or a promise.