Chapter 93: Painful Confession

Mrs. Miriam, after calming down slightly following the promise that she wouldn’t be arrested, took a long breath. Her shoulders, which seemed to have borne the weight of an entire world for years, relaxed just a little, though the tension was still evident on her face. With a nod, she indicated to her daughter to go to her room. Angél, obedient, pushed her wheelchair toward the door, but before leaving, she turned back with a look full of concern. Her mother tried to force a faint smile, as if to reassure her, though she was broken inside. Angél hesitated for a moment but finally disappeared behind the door, leaving a heavy silence in the room.

Miriam approached the door, carefully closed it, ensuring no crack remained where the words she was about to utter could escape. It was as if every action cost her an immense amount of energy. Turning toward the others, her eyes betrayed the whirlwind of emotions consuming her. There was regret, yes, but also a deep, ingrained pain and an exhaustion that went beyond the physical—a weariness of a woman who had fought against life and lost more battles than she could count. Her breathing hitched as her fingers trembled slightly. When she spoke, it seemed as if every word carried the weight of two decades of secrets and remorse.

—Twenty years ago —she began, her voice barely a whisper—, my husband Andrew suffered a terrible accident. It was something we never imagined. He was a healthy, strong man… But out of nowhere, a reckless driver left him gravely injured. He was in a coma for three days, and then… —she paused, struggling not to break down— he passed away.

She placed a hand on her chest, as if reliving the blow of that loss.

—Andrew was the love of my life. He left me alone with our daughter, Angél, who was barely three years old. I thought the hardest part would be overcoming his death, but I was wrong. Angél wasn’t the same after losing her father. At first, we all thought she was just sad, which was normal. But over time, the symptoms became more evident. She didn’t want to eat, she couldn’t sleep well, and then other problems started to appear. She would fall easily, and she’d get exhausted after just a few steps.

Miriam closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to erase those memories from her mind.

—After months of tests, the doctors gave us a devastating diagnosis: her bone marrow was severely affected. They explained that if she didn’t receive a transplant, her life would be in danger. Imagine my situation. I had lost my husband, and now it seemed fate wanted to take my daughter away too. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have the resources; I didn’t have help. It was just me against time. Every day that passed, I felt life slipping away.

Mateo and the others watched her attentively, their faces marked by the gravity of her words. Miriam took a moment to compose herself, then continued:

—The clinic where I worked offered to cover half the cost of the treatment, but the other half was an exorbitant amount. I tried everything: loans, extra jobs, even selling what little I had of value. But it wasn’t enough. The nights were endless. I couldn’t sleep, thinking my daughter might slip away at any moment.

She brought her hands to her face, trying to hold back the tears, but they began to flow freely. Her voice trembled as she spoke.

—It was during one of those desperate moments that I was contacted. Some men… the Ratasquilla. I didn’t know who they were, but they knew a lot about me. They knew about my daughter, about my situation. They offered me a proposal that, at the time, seemed like madness. They wanted me to facilitate the exchange of two babies at the hospital where I worked.

The expressions of those present hardened. Mateo, who had remained silent until then, felt a surge of anger and confusion. Memories of his own dealings with that group flooded his mind like a storm. Miriam continued:

—At first, I refused. I told them I would never do something like that, that it went against everything I believed in. But they didn’t stop. They followed me day and night. They showed me pictures of my daughter, alone, vulnerable. They threatened to harm her if I didn’t agree. And when Angél’s condition worsened… —her voice broke again— I gave in. I thought I was choosing between saving her or losing her forever.

She fell silent for a moment, while the tears continued to fall.

—I did it. I helped switch those babies. I made sure it all seemed like human error. And the worst part is, even though I got the money for Angél’s treatment, I couldn’t live in peace. Every day since then, I’ve lived with the guilt. Every time I saw my daughter get better, I remembered that another mother was suffering because I had stolen something that wasn’t mine.

Mateo leaned forward, unable to hold back.

—Mrs. Miriam, are you saying those men were the Ratasquilla? —he asked, his voice tense.

She nodded slowly, her eyes filled with fear.

—Yes, the very same. They’re known in several European countries. They’re like ghosts. They leave no trace, and even though authorities have searched for them, they’ve never been caught. They manipulate people, use them, and then disappear. I was just another pawn in their web of crimes.

Mateo felt a knot in his stomach. He thought of Alexia, of how she too had been a victim of those men. His gaze softened as he realized that, though Miriam had done something terrible, she had done it out of love for her daughter.

—Thank you for trusting us and telling us all this. We know it hasn’t been easy for you. But, Mrs. Miriam, we need your help to stop them. If you give us more information, we can bring them to justice. And maybe, someday, you can find peace —Mateo said, his voice now calmer and more understanding, as if trying to build a bridge between the abyss of her guilt and the possibility of redemption.

Miriam looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. For years, she had carried that secret, convincing herself that no one could understand the reasons behind her terrible decision. But now, faced with the empathy Mateo showed, she felt her armor slowly crumble.

—I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t undo what I did, but at least I can try to fix something of this mess… even if I never forgive myself for what I did —she said in a barely audible voice, as a single tear betrayed her and slipped down her cheek.

The silence that followed was overwhelming, laden with the weight of her confession. Everyone in the room seemed lost in their own thoughts, processing the magnitude of what they had just heard. Mateo stared at her, feeling a mix of compassion and determination. He knew he couldn’t give Miriam back what she had lost, but perhaps, with her help, he could put an end to the Ratasquilla’s crimes and prevent other families from being destroyed in the same way.

Miriam took a deep breath, searching for strength within herself. Her gaze swept across the room, pausing on each face for a moment. For the first time in years, she felt she wasn’t alone, that perhaps there was a small chance for redemption, even if only partially. She clenched her trembling hands, as if trying to hold on to what remained of her humanity.

—I’ve told you everything I know, every detail. I just want those men to pay for what they did… And if I can help prevent someone else from going through this, I will. It’s the only thing I can do now —she added with more firmness, though her voice remained laden with pain.

Her determination filled the room with a new kind of energy, one that seemed to illuminate the shadows of the tragedy they had just uncovered.