Chapter 5 - THE ANGEL WITHOUT WINGSBy sunset, Elena was standing before the palace gates again.
Only twenty-four hours earlier, she had been thrown out with a suitcase and a bruised face.
Now she had returned carrying her mother's letter.
Rafael stood beside her.
Two private security officers waited several feet behind them.
Elena looked toward the chapel roof rising above the western wing.
Construction lights illuminated the courtyard.
Workers were unloading equipment.
The sight made her stomach tighten.
“He knows,” she whispered.
Rafael nodded.
“Someone told him.”
The gates opened.
Nicolás Valcárcel approached them.
Unlike his older brother, Nicolás had never seemed comfortable with royal privilege.
At twenty-seven, he worked quietly with the palace's charitable foundation and avoided public ceremonies whenever possible.
He looked exhausted.
“Elena.”
She studied him.
“Are you here to stop me?”
“No.”
He glanced toward the chapel.
“I'm here to help.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
Nicolás hesitated.
“Because my mother told Adrián to destroy the chapel before midnight.”
Elena's heart sank.
“Why would she do that?”
“I don't know. But I heard her arguing with Victor Aranda.”
Rafael stepped closer.
“What did Victor say?”
Nicolás swallowed.
“He said that if the chapel was searched, the entire succession could be challenged.”
Elena looked toward the building.
“Then we need to get inside.”
Nicolás led them through a servants' corridor.
The palace felt different now.
Every portrait seemed to conceal a question.
Every polished door suggested another secret.
They passed the ballroom where Adrián had once danced with Elena at their wedding reception.
She remembered the way he had looked at her that evening.
Tender.
Proud.
Almost shy.
She had believed they were beginning a life together.
Now she wondered when the man she married had become the man who struck her.
Or whether the cruelty had always been there, waiting for permission.
At the chapel entrance, Nicolás stopped.
“Two guards are stationed inside.”
Rafael looked at him.
“Can you get them out?”
Nicolás nodded.
“Give me five minutes.”
He disappeared down the corridor.
Elena turned toward her father.
“Do you trust him?”
Rafael considered the question.
“I trust what he's doing right now. That's all.”
A few minutes later, Nicolás returned.
“The chapel is clear.”
They entered.
The room was breathtaking.
Tall stained-glass windows rose above carved wooden pews.
Hundreds of small candles stood beneath the altar.
At the far end, beside a marble column, was the statue Isabella had described.
A white angel.
One wing intact.
The other broken at the shoulder.
Elena approached slowly.
She ran her fingers along the marble base.
Nothing.
Rafael examined the column.
Nicolás searched behind the statue.
Minutes passed.
Then Elena noticed something unusual.
A small dove had been carved into the pedestal.
Its shape matched her mother's pendant.
She removed the silver necklace from her pocket.
The pendant fit perfectly into a narrow indentation beneath the carving.
A soft click echoed through the chapel.
Nicolás stepped back.
“Did you hear that?”
Elena pressed the marble panel.
It moved.
Behind it was a shallow compartment.
Inside lay a metal box wrapped in dark cloth.
Rafael carefully lifted it out.
His hands trembled.
“Isabella,” he whispered.
Elena opened the box.
There were financial ledgers.
A sealed royal acknowledgment.
And several photographs.
One showed King Alejandro signing documents beside Isabella.
Another showed Beatriz speaking with Victor Aranda.
The third showed a young woman holding a newborn baby.
Elena stared at the infant.
“Is that Adrián?”
Rafael took the photograph.
His expression darkened.
“Yes.”
On the back was a hospital stamp.
And a handwritten name.
Mother: Lucía Aranda.
Nicolás frowned.
“Aranda?”
Rafael looked toward the chapel doors.
“Victor Aranda had a younger sister.”
Elena felt cold.
“Lucía was Adrián's biological mother?”
Rafael nodded slowly.
“But that isn't the worst part.”
He unfolded another document.
It was a private adoption agreement.
At the bottom were three signatures.
King Alejandro.
Queen Beatriz.
Victor Aranda.
Elena leaned closer.
Then she noticed a fourth signature beneath the witness section.
The name made her gasp.
Lucía Aranda — deceased.
But the date beside the signature was three months after the date listed on Lucía's death certificate.
Nicolás stared.
“How could a dead woman sign an adoption agreement?”
Rafael looked at Elena.
“Because someone falsified the record.”
A sudden sound came from the chapel entrance.
Slow applause.
They turned.
Victor Aranda stood in the doorway.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit.
His silver hair was neatly combed.
And in his right hand, he held a pistol.
“Very impressive, Elena,” he said softly.
“Your mother was clever, too.”
May you like
He stepped inside.
“Unfortunately, clever women in this family have a habit of discovering things they were never meant to know.”
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