Prologue:
"Mamá! Mamá!" Alejandro's voice trembled as he darted through the darkened halls, the storm outside mirroring the chaos inside him. He knew exactly where she would be—caring for the horses, as always on a rainy night.
The rain soaked through his nightshirt as he burst out of the into the garden, but he didn't care. His mother needed him, and he needed her. She was his world, his only source of warmth and love in this vast, cold estate where he was little more than a ghost, a secret kept hidden from the world.
As he neared the stables, the dread in his chest grew, tightening around his heart like a vise. The wooden doors were slightly ajar, creaking as the wind pushed against them.
"Mamá?" he called again, this time more softly, as if afraid of what he might find.
Steeling himself, Alejandro pushed open the stable doors and stepped inside. The familiar smell of hay and horses filled his nostrils, but there was something else, something that didn't belong. The metallic scent of blood hung in the air, and it made his stomach churn.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There, in the middle of the stable, stood his father, Hector Morales. The man was an imposing figure, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared down at something on the ground. In his hand, he held a knife, its blade dripping with fresh blood.
Alejandro's heart stopped, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He followed his father's gaze to the floor, where a body lay sprawled in a pool of crimson. His mother.
"Mamá!" Alejandro cried, his voice breaking as he ran toward her, but his father's outstretched arm stopped him in his tracks.
Alejandro's wide eyes flicked between the knife in his father's hand and the still form of his mother on the ground. Her usually warm and loving face was pale, her eyes closed as if in sleep, but the unnatural angle of her limbs and the dark stain spreading across her dress told him the truth.
"No….no…. Mamá, please wake up!" Alejandro pleaded, tears streaming down his face as he tried to break free of his father's grip, but Hector held him fast.
Alejandro's world was crumbling before his very eyes, shock and fear traced his small face as he slowly lifted his head to take a closer look at his father. Hector was the monster of his life, a father who seemed to him as a beast rather than a father.
When Alejandro had learnt about Hector being his father he was pissed at his mother for making a child with such a monster. His mother had responded that he was the best thing Hector had given her and for that reason she loved him. As he darted his eyes back to her body he wondered how she felt knowing that the one man that had given her the best gift of life turned around to be the one that took her away from that best gift.
Finding it hard to breathe, Alejandro broke free from Hector's hands as he turned and ran out, not stopping, the image of his mother's lifeless body seared into his mind. He didn't know where he was headed to but his small feets carried him regardless.
He had reached the main entrance of the grand estate when he saw her—his stepmother, Margarita. The storm was still raging, the rain soaking through her elegant nightgown as she stood under the awning. She noticed him immediately, the tears streaming down his face, mixing with the rain that was beating against him.
"Alejandro, ¿qué pasó? ¿Qué haces aquí afuera?" Margarita's voice was filled with concern as she pulled him closer, her eyes scanning his tear-streaked face. "Why are you crying, mi niño? What's wrong?"
Alejandro looked up at her, his heart pounding in his chest, still reeling from what he had witnessed. The words caught in his throat, but he had to tell someone, had to make sense of the nightmare that had just unfolded.
"Mamá… she's dead..." Alejandro's voice cracked as he clung to her. "Papá… he… he killed her…"
Margarita's eyes widened in shock, though she quickly composed herself, her face softening with a mix of sorrow and empathy. She knelt down to his level, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "Oh, Alejandro, my poor boy. You're soaked. Come inside, cariño."
She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. Alejandro felt a fleeting moment of relief as she held him, her warmth and softness a stark contrast to the cold, brutal scene he had just fled. She smelled of lavender and something sweet, a familiar scent that had always made him feel safe.
As they walked inside, Margarita kept her arm around Alejandro, leading him through the dimly lit corridors of the estate. Her voice was soothing as she whispered to him, trying to calm the storm raging inside his mind. "What you saw… It was just a terrible dream, Alejandro. Just a nightmare. Mamá está descansando ahora. Your Mamá is resting now, you're safe with me, okay?"
Carefully she changed his wet clothes, once she was done she pulled him into her arms, rocking him gently back and forth, like a mother comforting her child after a bad dream. "I'll be right here with you always, mi amor."
************
Alejandro's room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the storm that still battered the estate. The only sound was the steady patter of rain against the windows, a relentless reminder of the night's horrors. Alejandro lay in his bed, his small body curled up under the blankets, but sleep brought him no peace. His dreams were filled with the image of his mother's lifeless body, and the blood-soaked knife in his father's hand.
The door creaked open, and the faint light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the walls, as Hector stood in the doorway, his face cold and unreadable, and behind him was a tall, stern-looking man Alejandro had never seen before.
Alejandro's eyes flew open, his heart pounding. "Mamá!" he called out, his voice shaky with fear. He climbed out of bed, his small feet hitting the cold floor as he rushed to his father. "Señore? Where's my Mamá? What did you do to her?"
Hector said nothing, his face cold as he methodically packed Alejandro's clothes into a small suitcase. Alejandro's questions hung in the air, unanswered.
When Hector remained silent, anger surged through Alejandro. "You're a monster!" he shouted. "A sorry excuse for a father! I hate you!"
Hector turned slowly, his eyes dark and devoid of emotion. In one swift motion, he struck Alejandro across the face, sending the boy stumbling back.
"You were never supposed to be my son," Hector said, his voice low and menacing. "You were a mistake. I'm done with you. Get out of my life, and don't ever come back."
Alejandro's world shattered. His father, the man he once loved, was now a stranger, cold and unfeeling. With a final, emotionless glance, Hector shoved the suitcase into Alejandro's hands.
"Viktor will take you far away," Hector said. "You'll be someone else's problem now."
As Viktor grabbed Alejandro's arm and led him away, Alejandro looked back one last time, hoping for something—anything—to change. But his father walked away, as if Alejandro had never existed.
Viktor dragged Alejandro out into the rain, the storm swallowing them both. They walked for what felt like hours until they reached the edge of the estate. Viktor shoved Alejandro forward into the mud.
"This is where we part ways," Viktor said gruffly. "You'll never see this estate again."
Alejandro stumbled, clutching his suitcase as he looked at Viktor, his voice trembling. "Where are you taking me?"
"Far from here," Viktor replied coldly. "You're done here."
They traveled for days until they arrived in a foreign land—America. Viktor handed Alejandro over to a cold, unwelcoming orphanage on the outskirts of a small town. Without a second glance, Viktor disappeared, leaving Alejandro behind.
As the door of the orphanage closed, something hardened in Alejandro's heart. "I'll be back," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'll make you pay for what you did to Mamá."