Chapter 2: The Man Who Raised Me
The graduation ceremony never officially ended.
It simply fell apart.
Parents were escorted toward the exits. University staff attempted to restore order. Security officers surrounded the sound booth while several graduates recorded everything on their phones.
I stood beside my mother, still wearing my blue gown, staring at the empty space where my father had been.
"Where did he go?"" I asked.
My mother tightened her grip on my hand.
"Don't look for him.""
"He's my father.""
"I know.""
"Then why are you acting like he's dangerous?""
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she studied my face as if she were trying to memorize it.
"You have your grandmother's eyes," she whispered.
I almost laughed.
"Mom, please. I don't need memories right now. I need answers.""
She nodded.
"You're right.""
A security officer approached us.
"Ma'am, we're going to need you to come with us. The police are on their way.""
My mother reached into her handbag again.
"I have documentation proving my identity.""
The officer glanced at the scar near her temple.
"Can you tell me your full name?""
"Elena Sofia Alvarez.""
"Date of birth?""
She answered.
"Your daughter's name?""
"Lena Marie Alvarez.""
The officer looked at me.
I nodded.
"That's my mother.""
He hesitated before stepping aside.
A few minutes later, we were in a small administrative office behind the auditorium.
The room smelled of old coffee and printer toner. My graduation gown was wrinkled, and my cap sat on a chair beside me.
My mother sat opposite me.
For the first time since she had appeared, we were alone.
I folded my arms.
"Start talking.""
She looked down at her injured hand.
"Six years ago, I discovered that your father was transferring money from one of our family companies into accounts that didn't belong to the business.""
"What does that mean?""
"It means he was stealing.""
I shook my head.
"That's impossible.""
"I found documents showing payments to shell companies. Some of them were registered under Daniel's name.""
"My uncle?""
She nodded.
"When I confronted your father, he told me I was misunderstanding the records. He promised to explain everything the next morning.""
"And?""
"The next morning, I received a phone call from Daniel.""
Her eyes moved toward the window.
"He said he had important documents for me. He asked me to meet him at a restaurant outside the city.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did you go?""
"Yes.""
"What happened?""
"I left the restaurant around nine. It was raining. About twenty minutes later, my brakes stopped responding.""
She paused.
"I tried to slow the car by shifting gears, but the vehicle was already moving too fast. I remember the guardrail. I remember the impact. Then I remember waking up in a hospital.""
"Which hospital?""
"A small private facility near Austin.""
"Why didn't you call me?""
Her expression broke.
"I tried.""
She opened her handbag and removed a folded sheet of paper.
It was old, creased, and yellowed at the edges.
There were several handwritten notes on it.
My name appeared at the top.
Lena.
Below it was a phone number I recognized.
Our old home number.
"I called your father first," she said.
"He answered.""
"What did he say?""
"He told me you were safe. He said you were staying with your aunt because the accident had traumatized you.""
I frowned.
"I never stayed with Aunt Rosa.""
"I know that now.""
She swallowed.
"Then he told me something else. He said if I ever contacted you, you would die the same way I almost had.""
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you go to the police?""
"I did.""
"And?""
"The officer assigned to my case told me there wasn't enough evidence to establish that the accident was intentional. Two days later, someone entered my hospital room and searched my belongings.""
She touched the scar near her temple.
"I knew I couldn't stay there.""
"So you just left me?""
The question came out harsher than I intended.
My mother looked as though I had slapped her.
"No.""
"Six years, Mom.""
"I know.""
"I had birthdays. I graduated high school. I got into college. I went through everything without you.""
Her eyes filled.
"I know, sweetheart.""
"Do you understand what that did to me?""
She lowered her head.
"I thought about you every single day.""
I stood.
"Thinking about me wasn't enough.""
She didn't defend herself.
That somehow made it worse.
A knock interrupted us.
A woman in a dark blazer entered with a police detective.
"I'm Detective Rebecca Shaw," the woman said.
"We need to ask both of you some questions.""
She placed a recorder on the desk.
"Mrs. Alvarez, can you explain the recording played during the ceremony?""
My mother nodded.
"The original recording came from a backup device I kept in my car. I recovered it after the accident.""
"Why did you wait six years to present it?""
"I spent years trying to establish who had arranged the attack. The recording was damaged, and I needed independent verification.""
Detective Shaw glanced at me.
"Do you know the second speaker?""
"My uncle. Daniel Brooks.""
The detective wrote something down.
"And your father?""
I hesitated.
"I don't know.""
My mother looked at me.
"Sweetheart—"
"I don't know," I repeated.
Detective Shaw closed her notebook.
"We'll need copies of everything. For now, neither of you should contact Mr. Brooks or your father.""
She handed us a card.
"Call me if either one approaches you.""
After she left, I stared at the old paper in my mother's hands.
Something about the phone number bothered me.
I leaned forward.
"Where did you get this?""
She looked at it.
"It's one of the notes I made while I was in the hospital.""
"No. This number.""
I pointed.
"That's not our old home number.""
My mother frowned.
I took out my phone and searched the number.
A business name appeared.
Alvarez Holdings.
My father's company.
I looked up.
"Why would you write down the company's number?""
My mother went pale.
"Because that's where I called.""
"When?""
"After the accident. Before I knew your father was involved.""
I turned the paper over.
There was another line of handwriting on the back.
A date.
And beneath it, a name.
Not Marco.
Not Daniel.
Someone else.
I recognized the name immediately.
Rosa Alvarez.
My father's older sister.
My aunt.
The woman who had supposedly been living in another state for the last five years.
I looked at my mother.
"Why is Aunt Rosa's name here?""
My mother took the paper from me.
May you like
Her fingers trembled.
"Because Rosa was the first person who told me your father had already arranged my funeral.""
