Chapter 3 - The Code Only Bia Knew
The chapel fell into a suffocating hush.
Every pair of eyes turned toward the blue glow of the smartphone screen.
Julian walked slowly toward Bia, kneeling on one knee.
"Sweetheart," Julian said, his tone dripping with forced gentleness.
"Daddy is right here. Give Daddy the phone."
"No," Bia said firmly, pulling backward against Ricardo’s legs.
"Mommy told me never to give it to you if Helena was standing next to you."
The words hit Julian like a physical slap across the face.
Color drained completely from his cheeks.
Mourners in the front rows began whispering behind their black gloves.
"What did she say?" an elderly woman muttered.
"Why did Clara warn the child against her own father?"
Ricardo looked down at Bia with deep gentleness.
"Bia," Ricardo whispered. "Did Clara give you the code?"
Bia nodded once.
She remembered the night before Clara was found cold in her bed.
Clara had been sweating, her skin pale and grey.
Her hands had been shaking as she threaded the heavy needle through the doll's back.
She had leaned down, kissed Bia’s forehead, and whispered four numbers.
The day you made me a mother, my angel.
Bia reached her small thumb out toward the glowing keypad.
She typed: 0 - 6 - 1 - 2.
June twelfth.
The day Bia was born in the private clinic downtown.
The screen beeped softly and unlocked.
A single folder sat on the home screen titled: FOR THE PROSECUTOR.
Helena suddenly screamed, lunging across the floral arrangements.
White lilies went flying, vases shattered against the marble floor.
Helena’s manicured hand clawed directly for Bia’s face.
Ricardo reacted instantly, shoving his shoulder forward to block the assault.
Helena stumbled into the edge of the open casket.
The heavy wood groaned on its metal trestles.
Clara’s peaceful profile inside barely moved beneath the sheer shroud.
"She’s crazy! That phone is fabricated!" Helena shrieked, tangled in flowers.
Julian stood frozen, watching his mother-in-law unravel before the entire room.
Ricardo tapped the video file on the screen and hit full volume.
The phone’s speaker crackled to life.
May you like
A woman’s weak, raspy voice echoed through the high stone arches of the chapel.
It was Clara.
