CHAPTER 3
1662 Words
A Father’s Burden
The car's engine buzzed against the silence. Bruno sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his bag squeezed between his feet and the leather-bound diary gripped in his lap like a fragile piece of secret information. Outside, the city lights sped past in yellow and white streaks, each lamppost flickering across the glass as if erasing memories.
His father, Mr. Sanchez, grabbed the driving wheel so firmly that his knuckles turned pale. The man's jaw was clenched, his gaze set firmly on the road, but Bruno didn't need words to sense the weight emanating from him. It was not a comforting or indifferent silence. It was the quiet of a dam poised to break.
They drove for more than an hour, leaving behind New York's iconic skyscrapers and ascending into wooded hills where the air became cooler and the shadows darker. The woodland swallowed the moonlight, and each turn down the road felt like a departure from Bruno's previous life.
Finally, the car slid into an empty space. A wooden cabin emerged from the darkness, its porch light flickering faintly and accompanied by crickets' whispers. It did not appear to be a home, but rather a secret.
Bruno went out with caution, inhaling the scent of damp dirt and pine needles. The crunch of dirt beneath his sneakers resonated through the silent night. The cabin smelled of varnished wood, old paper, and dust. His father bolted the door as soon as they entered, as if danger had pursued them through the trees.
"This place…" Mr. Sanchez stated with a hushed voice. "Your grandfather built it. Not as a vacation home. As a sanctuary. A place to flee in case the past ever caught up."
Bruno dropped the diary onto the wooden table with a solid bang. His eyes blazed with inquiries. His voice sliced through the cabin's silence like a razor.
"Then let us stop running, Dad. No more half truths. No more riddles. Tell me everything”, he demanded angrily.
Mr. Sanchez dropped into a chair, massaging his forehead as if the weight of time was pushing against him. Bruno saw him for the first time as someone weakened by time, fear, and secrets, rather than the strong, serene guy who had reared him.
"Before I met your mother, her life was complicated. Maria was intelligent, gifted, and gorgeous... But she had enemies. Enemies that are powerful. When she chose to marry me, I inherited both her battles and her love”. He said, his voice straining.
Bruno leaned forward, his hands curled. "And the note? What about the diary? What does the strange message 'You're not who you think you are' mean?" He questioned his father.
His father's gaze wavered, grief written in every line of his face. "It means you've been linked to a conflict that began before you were born. Your mother came across men who refuse to forgive. Men like Rafael Cortez." Mr. Sanchez replied sternly.
The name sounded like thunder.
Bruno's breath caught. "Cortez? The cortez? The person who—"
"Yes." His father's voice hardened. "Rafael Cortez was once my main competitor. In addition, he previously dated your mother. Rafael lost everything when she chose me as her husband and then I inherited her father's company, Digital Studios”, he continued.
The words hit Bruno like stones, one after the other, burrowing into his chest. His reality shifted in terrible new patterns.
"He killed her," each syllable was like a shard of glass in the air. "Maria discovered evidence—documents proving Rafael siphoned millions from the company. She threatened to expose him. Two weeks later, she died. Staged like an accident. But I know the truth." Mr. Sanchez finally spoke.
The room swirled. Bruno felt the floor tilt beneath him and the world dissolve around him. His voice boiled with rage.
“And you… you knew all this time? You allowed me to grow up believing she was unwell and then she died as a result of the illness ?, then you told me she fled away, What am I going to believe? ” Bruno exclaimed angrily.
Mr. Sanchez's shoulders sagged. His voice quiver, laden with shame.
"Bruno, I wanted to protect you. If Rafael knew you were looking into this, he would not hesitate to destroy you. His influence extends everywhere—courts, police, and the streets. I couldn't risk losing you, either." His father spoke gently.
Bruno banged his fist on the table. The boom echoed through the cabin, like a gunshot.
"Enough of these lies! I do not want to be safe. I demand justice. For mom. For everything he took from us." Bruno said this in a furious tone.
Rain started falling outside, pounding nervously on the roof. For a long time, Mr. Sanchez did not respond. His eyes glistened in the faint lamplight, split between terror and hesitant acceptance. He then spoke;
"If you want justice," he stated at last, his voice low and sorrowful, "you must be prepared for war. Rafael Cortez does not accept defeat gracefully. He never has. He never will."
Bruno's chest heaved, his emotions a fire of pain and rage. But underlying it all surged something else: a frightening, unwavering determination. He wasn't simply Maria's son anymore. He was her unfinished battle.
That night, Bruno lay awake in the cabin's guest room, staring at the cracked wood ceiling. His mother's final diary entry resonated in his head:
“It won’t be an accident if something happens to me.”
He rolled onto his side and clutched the diary as if it could breathe. The slight scent of her perfume. The aroma of lavender and jasmine lingered in the pages. It made his chest ache.
Sleep only arrived in bits. He dreamed of shadows chasing him down long hallways, and his mother's voice screaming out only to fade into stillness. He awoke breathless, drenched in sweat, with the diary still pressed against his chest.
He dragged himself to school at morning, although he was not quite present. His body moved along the halls, but his thoughts remained stuck within the cabin. The voices surrounding him were muffled, like echoes underwater.
Catherina reacted immediately. She caught up with him at his locker, swinging her guitar case over her shoulder.
"You are walking as if you had encountered some sort of spirit”. Talk to me, Bruno, Catherina spoke.
He did not resist. They snuck away from the noisy hallways and sought safety beneath an ancient pine tree in the schoolyard. The gloom enveloped them like a cocoon.
He then told her everything.
The killing. stealing money from the company. Rafael Cortez — the mafia's leader, was linked to all of these events.
Catherina's face paled at every syllable. As though looking for answers in the branches, she leaned back against the bark and gazed up at the sky.
“So your mom… she died because of a company?” she whispered, horrified.
"Not just a company," Bruno mumbled, his teeth clenched. "Due to one man - Rafael Cortez. And my dad gave him the liberty to move freely”, he included.
Her eyes grew sharper. "Or maybe your father is hiding something too. Think about it. If he knew all this and remained silent, perhaps he fears more than just Rafael's power." She suggested.
The suggestion wounded worse than he cared to acknowledge. That night, while the city lights flickered outside his window, Bruno returned to his diary.
The final entry looked back at him, haunting:
"If you ever read this, Bruno, please finish what I started. Justice must prevail."
Her voice, conveyed across time, seemed like an obligation.
For the first time in his life, Bruno did not feel like a boy looking for answers. He felt like a man bracing for a judgment.
Weeks later, the courtroom was completely crowded. Journalists scribbled furiously, cameras flashed, and the air was filled with tension. Bruno sat rigidly at the prosecution table, his heart pounding in his ears.
Catherina clasped his hand, grounding him.
The judge adjusted his glasses. “Proceed with the evidence.”
A video turned on; glitches vibrated, and Rafael Cortez's voice slithered over the speakers:
“She knows too much. Make it look like an accident.”
Gasps echoed within the room. The members of the jury adjusted their chairs. Rafael's attorney froze, his pen falling out of his grasp.
Bruno's chest contracted. The hidden camera kept within his mother's guitar for years, was her ultimate weapon. And now it was his.
The trial escalated quickly. Witnesses came forward, and judgement was passed.
The verdict was swift and merciless: Guilty on all counts.
Rafael Cortez would spend the rest of his life behind bars.
That evening, Bruno sat in the Sanchez garden, slowly plucking Gloria, his mother's favorite guitar. The evening sky blazed pink and orange, and the aroma of jasmine permeated the atmosphere. Each note was a prayer, a release, a chat with the ghost of the woman who had given him music, and a cause worth fighting for.
“I still can’t believe it’s over,” Bruno whispered.
Beside him, Catherina smiled softly. “It’s not over. It’s just… a new song.” She said.
Her words hung in the air like a symphony. Bruno put the guitar down and turned to her, his throat tight. But he still let out the words;
“I love you,” he said finally, the words dragging out of him like a confession in church. His chest heaved, but his gaze never wavered.
Cat… I’ve loved you since we were kids. I told you once, but maybe not enough. Bruno said.
This time, she did not turn away. She linked her fingers around his, her eyes sparkling.
“I know,” she whispered.
The battle for justice had ended in victory. However, Bruno was unaware that another storm, the darkest one yet, was forming on the horizon.
- Writer
