The days after Luna's birth were filled with gentle joy. The air in the house smelled like baby powder, fresh laundry, and the warm dishes Amara had started cooking again. Santiago took time off, waking up early to hold Luna, helping Israel get ready for school, and simply breathing in this rare peace.
Amara watched him with soft eyes—how he held their newborn daughter like she was made of stars, how he whispered to her in the same voice he used with Israel. "Mi luna bonita," he'd call her.
One morning, Santiago stood in the garden, holding Luna in one arm while watering the lemon trees. Israel danced nearby, singing a silly song she'd learned at school.
Amara stepped out, her long robe fluttering. "She's smiling," she whispered, watching Luna's tiny lips curl.
"She knows she's safe," Santiago replied, placing a kiss on Luna's forehead. "She knows we're whole."
But peace is never permanent.
That same afternoon, while Amara napped with Luna and Israel played quietly in her room, Santiago revisited the strange call. He'd recorded it. Played it back. Over and over.
"There's still one shadow left…"
It wasn't just a threat—it was a clue.
Santiago drove to the forensic lab he used to work with, now converted into a private investigative space. He had access. And he had the skills. There, he matched voice samples, ran background checks, and began digging.
What he found froze his blood.
The call originated from Rome. From a secure government location.
He wasn't just being watched—someone in power still wanted him quiet.
He returned home late. Amara met him at the door, Luna in her arms. "Where were you?" she asked gently.
"Just… clearing my head," he lied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You and the girls are everything now."
But as he lay in bed that night, with Luna sleeping on Amara's chest and Israel curled at his feet, Santiago stared at the ceiling.
He had uncovered corruption once before.
He had faced death to protect truth.
Now, he would do it again—but this time, as a father of two.
The shadow had returned.
But Santiago Morales…
was no longer afraid of the dark.