Chapter 4 - THE FORGOTTEN REGISTRY
The flight back from Monterrey was a blur of high-altitude turbulence and agonizing thoughts.
Diego didn’t go back to the villa. Instead, he drove his black sedan straight to the historical archives office in downtown San Miguel de Allende.
The building was old, its ceilings high and thick with the dust of centuries of birth, marriage, and death certificates.
Diego used his legal credentials to bypass the front desk, walking directly into the basement where the records from the 1980s were kept in massive, rolling metal shelves.
He rolled back the heavy crank wheels, searching for the year 1991—the year before he was born.
His hands scrambled through the faded yellow folders, his eyes scanning hundreds of names until he found the registry for births in the state of Zacatecas, cross-referenced with local residents.
He flipped through the pages, his breathing shallow, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Mendoza... Mendoza... Mendoza...
And then, his fingers stopped.
Name: Mateo Mendoza Sofia. Father: Alejandro Mendoza. Mother: Sofia Ramos. Date of Birth: August 14, 1990.
Diego stared at the elegant, flowing script of the clerk. It was his father’s signature at the bottom of the page, recognizing paternity.
The signature was undeniable. The elegant curve of the 'A', the sharp cross on the 'M'. It was the exact same signature that was on Diego’s law school graduation gift.
Brenda wasn't lying.
He had a brother. An older brother born out of wedlock, hidden away like a dirty secret while Diego enjoyed private tutors, expensive trips, and a secure future.
Diego collapsed into an old wooden chair in the archive basement, holding his head in his hands.
The image of his father—the noble, flawless patriarch—crumbled into a thousand pieces in his mind.
But there was no time for grief, and there was no time for resentment.
If Mateo was real, and if he was as angry as Brenda claimed, then his mother, Teresa, was in imminent danger.
He pulled out his phone and called his private investigator, a former federal agent named Javier, who specialized in tracking missing persons.
“Javier, I have a name and a birth date,” Diego said, his voice trembling with a rare flash of panic. “Mateo Mendoza Ramos. Born in Zacatecas, 1990.”
“Find him. Find out where he is right now, what he drives, and who he’s talking to.”
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“And Javier... do it completely off the record. If anyone asks, you don’t know me.”
Diego hung up the phone and looked back at the birth certificate. The shadow of his father’s past had finally caught up to the present, and it was coming for everything they owned.
