Chapter 3: The Ghost at the Gate
Diego sprinted through the rain that had begun to fall across the estate’s winding front driveway. Marco and two medical attendants followed closely behind with an emergency stretcher.
Just outside the wrought-iron gates, curled on an old stone bus-stop bench under a leaking canopy of oak leaves, lay a slender figure. She wore a faded grey woolen coat, soaked through with icy rainwater. Her dark, wet hair clung to her pale, fever-flushed face.
Diego reached the bench first. He handed Mia to Marco and fell to his knees on the wet gravel.
With trembling hands, he pushed the damp hair away from the woman’s face.
The breath left his body in a ragged gasp.
""Elena...""
It was Elena Vance. Five years ago, his father and Paulina’s family had told him that Elena had accepted a five-million-dollar buyout to leave the country and abandon him. They had produced bank statements, signed relinquishment agreements, and a cold letter bearing her signature claiming she had never loved him.
Now, looking at her gaunt cheeks, the calluses on her fingers, and the worn fabric of a coat that had seen too many winters, Diego realized the monstrous architecture of lies he had lived inside for half a decade.
Elena’s eyelids fluttered open, heavy with delirium. Her dark eyes, unfocused and clouded with pneumonia, met his.
""Diego...?"" she whispered, her voice like dry leaves. ""Did Mia... find the bird?""
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""She found me, Elena,"" Diego choked out, lifting her into his arms, oblivious to the rain drenching his suit. Tears hot and unashamed rolled down his face as he pressed his cheek against her freezing forehead. ""She found me. I’m right here.""
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