Chapter 4: The Web Unravels
Esteban stepped into the faint circle of light cast by our lantern.
He was dressed in his fine riding coat, but his expression was entirely transformed. The warm, loving husband was gone. In his place stood a stranger with eyes like flint and a cruel, cruel smile resting on his lips. In his right hand, he held a long, silver hunting knife.
“Esteban…” I rasped, standing between him and Lucía, holding the journal tightly against my chest. “You killed my parents.”
Esteban chuckled, a dry, humorless sound that sent chills down my spine. “Your father was a foolish, arrogant man, Elena. He thought he could run this estate with outdated ideals of honor and tradition. He was sitting on millions in land value and refused to sell a single acre to the Madrid developers. He had to be removed.”
“And me?” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “Twelve years, Esteban! Twelve years I loved you! I gave you my life!”
“And you were a very pleasant wife, my dear,” Esteban said smoothly, taking a slow step forward. “Quiet. Obedient. Unquestioning. But you lived too long. The developers are getting impatient. They want the land for the new railway, and they are offering more money than you could dream of. But as long as you and your idiot brother held the title deeds, I couldn’t touch the money.”
“You poisoned me!”
“A gentle doses of digitalis,” Esteban admitted casually, tilting his head. “It leaves almost no trace. The local doctor would have ruled it a natural heart failure due to hereditary grief. It was supposed to be peaceful, Elena. You would have gone to sleep and simply never woken up.”
He glared past me, his eyes fixing on Lucía with dark fury.
“Until this little rat showed up,” Esteban spat. “Creeping into our bed every night. Blocking my access. Interrupting my dosages. I tried to scare her off. I stood outside her door. I left subtle threats. But she just wouldn’t leave your side.”
“Because she has a heart, unlike you!” I yelled, lifting the heavy iron crowbar I had used to break into the vault. “Stay back, Esteban! If you take another step, I swear to God I will kill you!”
Esteban laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “With a rusty piece of iron? My sweet, foolish Elena. Look around you. You are in a subterranean crypt. No one can hear your screams. Mateo is three miles away in the upper pastures. By the time he returns, he will find his beloved sister and his crazy sister-in-law dead—victims of a tragic struggle after Lucía suffered another ‘psychotic break.'”
He raised the knife, his knuckles white around the hilt. “It ends tonight.”
Lucía suddenly grabbed a bottle of high-proof vintage wine from the desk, smashed it against the edge of the iron box, and hurled the jagged glass and spilling alcohol straight at Esteban’s face!
“AHHH!” Esteban shrieked as the sting of alcohol and glass struck his eyes. He stumbled backward, flailing wildly with his knife.
“RUN!” Lucía screamed.
We sprinted past him, diving through the shattered wooden door frame of the vault into the pitch-black main cellar.
Behind us, Esteban roared in rage, wiping blood and wine from his eyes. “YOU BITCHES! YOU WON’T LEAVE THIS CELLAR ALIVE!”
We ran through the dark maze of wine barrels, guided only by memory. Behind us, we could hear Esteban crashing through the darkness, heavy boots thundering over the stone floor, his furious breaths sounding like an enraged beast.
“Up the stairs!” I yelled, pointing to the stone staircase in the distance.
We scrambled up the narrow steps, our hands slipping on the damp stone. I reached the heavy door at the top and yanked on the brass handle.
It was locked.
Esteban had locked it from the outside before coming down through the secondary servant entrance.
“No, no, no!” I panicked, frantically pounding on the thick wood. “MATEO! HELP! MATEO!”
Below us, at the bottom of the stairs, Esteban appeared out of the shadows. Blood trickled down his cheek from a cut made by the broken glass, giving his face a demonic appearance. He began ascending the stairs, one slow, deliberate step at a time.
“There is no escape, Elena,” he sneered, swinging the blade back and forth. “No one is coming.”
Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs rattled violently.
BOOM!
The heavy wood bulged inward.
BOOM!
A massive shoulder slammed against the outside of the door. The iron latch splintered, and the heavy oak door flew wide open, crashing against the wall.
Standing in the doorway, drenched in sweat and holding a heavy double-barreled hunting shotgun, was Mateo.
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