The month after getting engaged to Matteo, was the most stressful month of my whole life. The month I felt most like an adult. We sat on his couch each with our laptops. He was looking for a house to move into and I for wedding dress inspiration.

"Why would you like to move into another house with me and not keep this one?"
"Too little space."

I giggled.
"What do you mean 'too little space?'. How many children are you expecting us to have?"
He sneered.
"This house isn't suitable for children. You'll only have a wardrobe in this one and not a whole room for clothes. And...", he trailed off, viewing the locked door over his shoulder, "leave my past behind."

The room I wasn't allowed to enter. An eerie feeling crept up since I still didn't know what was so extraordinary about this office and what data about DAI could be so private to acquire computers and hacking machines in the cellar.

"You mean you cut off the problems with DAI?"
"Yes, for my wife I'll be humble."

I stroked Angeliqué toying with the fur bobbles, my pj-hoodie had. She was a snow-white British Shorthair kitten. Matteo introduced her as our first family member on Christmas. I've always wanted a kitty, but my mom was allergic to animal hairs, Carlos as well.

I remember our guests trying to convince me to name her a certain way. Every name Leon recommended would've gotten me straight to jail. Until Joseph suggested "Angeliqué", I declined every single offer. This name suited her best.

Matteo brushed with his thumb over my hand and way too frequently over the ring with a smug grin.
"I think, someone is really delighted about seeing a ring on my finger?"

"I'm not a prideful man, but I'd gladly boast to everyone about how gorgeous my wife is."
The word "wife" made me feel like someone new. More mature. Responsible and loved.

"Oh, c'mon Mat..."
Gorgeous? While I looked like a mess, after working again and taking call after call. Dark eye bags, having my fucking period as well and bad hair day was the cherry on top of whipped cream.

For some reason, I looked stunning in Matteo's perspective. He picked me up from work with flowers and introduced me regularly to new Puerto Rican dishes.

"Miss Díaz, I mean everything I say.", his hand resting on my leg.
"Who said I'll be Díaz?"
Oh, I will be Díaz, I'd love to, with every fiber of my being.

An hour later, Joseph visited us to stay overnight, since Ife was close to delivery. The baby will probably be born tomorrow and Joseph lived an hour away from her hospital while Matteo was seven minutes away.

Joseph was very overwhelmed by his new status as a father and sunk defeated into the couch. "I can't imagine how much pain my Ife has right now. I'll just pray that everything goes as hoped."

Matteo comforted him: "I understand your worries, but I'm sure Ife is a strong woman and will have no long-lasting complaints."

I'll just be quiet since I know she's in serious pain. I admire every mother on the planet.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, while I prepared hot cocoa for Joseph and dishes, I can bring Ife tomorrow as a labor present.

Matteo answered the door.
"Good evening, Mister Díaz.", the police officer said.

Matteo what did you do?

The next sentence flabbergasted me.
"Is Lara Sequiera here?"
"Y-Yes...", I stumbled towards the officers, ignoring Matteo's and Joseph's confused stares.

"What do you want from my wife?", Matteo interrogated concerned.
"We need her to visit the crime scene. She's the victim's closest person."
Carlos?!
Crime scene? Victim...?

"I'll come with you", I grabbed my coat and Matteo did the same.
I stopped him
"Matteo I want to drive alone. I have a bad feeling, please stay home."
"But-"
I put both hands on his cheeks.
"No please."

"Fine...", he let me go with unwillingness and the drive was silent. Those were real police officers. Not some people hired by DAI to lure me in. We drove toward the familiar little neighborhood near the woods.

The smell of fire found its way through the open window.
No. No. No

The house of my trauma and pain stood in flames. At the house, I realized how evil relatives can be. The house of my beloved mother, María.

Nonetheless, how is a burning house a crime scene?
" Victim..."
Arson? Someone must've lit her house on fire. I bit the inside of my cheek, promising myself to burn everyone who might've wanted to harm my mother, down.

We arrived at the house, slowly collapsing. The neighbors evacuated, witnessing the scene playing in front of them. Flames reached after the clouds.
A crime scene investigator approached me with a letter in his hand.

"Good evening, Miss Sequiera. I'm deeply troubled to let you know, that your mother, María Sequiera, passed away."
I wasn't able to move. My hand was the only part shakingly receiving the letter.
"How did she die? I-I mean she was mentally stable-"
"She most likely shot herself, before she lit the house on fire. The secured pistol in the kitchen was covered with her fingerprints."

I didn't comprehend why she would've done that to herself. She was on a good path of recovery and would've never risked her neighbor's life while taking hers. The pieces didn't fit together.

"She left a letter in the mailbox for you. We didn't read the letter as a team, since we decided to let you read it. When you read anything odd, which could help our case please let us know."
I grabbed the investigator's shoulders.
"Please, this can't be suicide! She must've been blackmailed and murdered! You need to start a manhunt! Search for missing clues! I'm begging you, officer!"

DAI...
There's no one else who would want to kill my mother.
I'll unalive every single one of them, including their boss, this hell of a motherfucker.

The investigator left me alone, talking to the firefighters, giving me time to read the letter.

With every word of this piece of paper, I realized that maybe I was the next person to go insane.

My beloved daughter,

the moment you're reading this, I've already deceased. I'll most likely have shot myself.

Since you're finally an adult, I'm going to tell you some things I've kept away from the light.

Your father and I had a huge argument, leading us to consider divorce. Gabriel overheard our conversation and wouldn't even look at me for the next two months nor name me by Mãe.

Thiago was a thorn in my skin, so someone needed to pick it out, right?

I used half of my savings for a hitman. Someone who would crash your father's car and make it look like an accident. Another fact this piece of shit of a son noticed.

To hide from the case's investigation I took you and Gabriel to San José. I knew I needed to do something before Gabriel would report you. The only way to achieve Gabriel being silenced was to turn him into a psychopath.

What is something, which makes people go insane?
Drugs.

Gabriel never took LSD pills, the effects it had, weren't even close to his symptoms. The police found more things out about Gabriel's death than I'd let you on.

It was a niche substance I administered to him. I put the drug daily into his drink or food and locked him in the cellar after to experiment a little.

The drug made him violent, aggressive, orientationless, not able to keep us apart, and not able to remember what he did.

I planned to kill you after his death too, it then I realized that your husband will go down a worse path with you than I would. My poor daughter has enough struggles with this man.

Watch your back, my daughter, this is just the beginning.

-María Seq.

I let the letter fall to the ground, watching the firefighters try their best to extinguish the flames. I balled my fist, tears of anger and grief dropping. The fire inside of me encouraged me to take revenge for my father and brother.

Revenge on whom? A hitman who did his job? Gabriel's drug dealer George, who solely did his job as well?

Maybe she also killed Gabriel and it wasn't the drugs.
So that's what Gabriel meant by fleeing from home because Marís is demonic...

She was not demonic. She was the devil.

I bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from screaming and let out a cry until I perceived the blood's metallic taste.

The investigator checked up on me once again.
"Anything that could help our case?"
No. Worsen it.

"Nothing officer. Keep me on track with further information, right now I want to go home and get mental help if my presence isn't necessary."
"We will call you in the next few days. Officers will drive you to your fiancé's house. I wish you the best, Miss Sequiera."

༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡    𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡    𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡

At home I showed the letter to Matteo in our bedroom, having a panic attack. I could barely breathe and my world didn't make sense anymore. My head was pounding and my body was weak.

My brother was innocent...

"I don't have a family anymore!", I cried into his chest, while he stroked my back.
"My family is your family. And now, we're family, Cariña.", Matteo soothened, but nothing worked out. I had so many questions.

"The letter sounds like she's been blackmailed." He proclaimed, showing me suspicious sentences. His hand was buried in his hair. "It looks like your mother was in a hurry, which is odd. She must've written the letter before she lit the house on fire."

My eyes lit up.
"So you agree with me?"
"But what she wrote sounds honest. Maybe in the wrong words and there was someone who controlled her."

Someone must've controlled her.

"I'll go downstairs, get a glass of water, and speak to Joseph, okay?"
"Of course."
I stumbled into the kitchen. Joseph studied criminal psychology, he'll comprehend her motives.

I trotted to the sink, filling my glass and suddenly I was a Gabriel, getting drugged with an unknown substance. The glass slipped out of my hand and shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Fuck." I searched for a hand brush and the moment I turned around I noticed that the door of the room I was never allowed to enter, let a crack of lightning shine into the kitchen.

I can't go in there. Matteo prohibited me. It'd be rude to violate his privacy. Joseph's faint voice, ranting about something changed my mind.

I mean, if Joseph is in this certain room and Matteo encouraged me to talk to him, there's nothing reprehensible for entering this room once.

With this decision I might regret quickly, I opened the door as quietly as possible. The room was downstairs, open, while another one was closed.

I sneaked down the stairs, careful, to not get noticed by Joseph. My stomach sank as I observed the photos on the walls left and right to me. Those weren't business photos or footprints of DAI. Those were photos of me.

It'd be a little weird if he hung engagement photos of us or ones we made during our world trip in a cellar. They were nothing like the ones in his bedroom.

Those were pictures of me when I was 15. Some others when I was 18 or 21. Pictures of me graduating, but also ones of me leaving the house. I'm surprised I didn't find myself showering or having sex yet.

My vomit stuck in my throat. I nearly fainted at seeing all these pictures.

Matteo stalked me. Since I was 15.

The moment I reached the main room, I saw Joseph towering over the keyboard.

Without gifting me a look he said: "Matteo, I told you to get rid of this room. It's beyond fucked up."
"Oh so you share my perspective?", I said quietly. Leon and Ren probably knew about the stalking as well...

Joseph whirled around, freaking out. His eyes ripped open.
"FUCK LARA! YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO WALK IN HERE!". He tried to near me and lead me upstairs, but I grabbed the gun from the desk, aiming it at him.

"Don't even dare to come close to me.", I backed off, "You're going to answer me every question I have."
"But-"
"No buts. Tell me. Everything."

Joseph put his hands up. I'd never shoot at someone, especially not at a father. But why would a criminal psychologist support criminality?

My gaze wandered over the pinboard.
Adrián Riviera

A picture of him laying his arm around someone who was hidden with a black edding pen. That someone wasn't me, it was a male.

"You know who Adrián Riviera was don't you?"
Joseph didn't react.
"You did.", my voice wobbly.

On the desk was a black notebook with the inscription "Adrián's Journal".
Since when did he keep a journal? Where is Adrián now?

I pointed at the closed room.
"What's in there."
"I don't know-"
"You do."
Joseph fumbled.
"I do."

He shot a look to the stairs and grabbed a key from the pinboard, unlocking the heavy door.

A purging smell stung in my nose. The one of death and blood. Unwillingly, I switched the light switch on.

I didn't count. I wasn't even able to.

Men hanging from the ceiling, with zip ties around their hands and feet. A gallows rope around their neck.

I recognized all men except one.
Those were men I've kissed or hooked up with.

So that's why I've never had a relationship...

"Who's this guy?", I pointed the only one I'd never met before out.
"Trevor. Valentina's ex-boyfriend."

I swallowed the giant chunk in my throat.

"Where's Adrián Riviera?", tears already formed in my eyes. If Matteo wouldn't have killed Adrián, we would've taken a different turn.

Silence.
Until someone behind my back answered:

"Adrián died so he'd become Matteo."