Ashes of San Miguel

Echoes of the past

The storm outside mirrored Alejandro’s mind. Pain, hurt, betrayal and more but not confusion.

Rain slammed against the high windows of the estate he had temporarily made his command center—an old coastal villa once owned by a distant cousin in Galicia.

His inner circle was scattered across rooms, working like pieces of a machine, but a machine under pressure, overclocked, fraying at the edges.

He stood by the fireplace, staring into the flames as memories clawed their way back from the depths.

Betrayal. Secrets. Power.

But the ghosts he had tried to bury were louder now.

It began with a photograph Natalia Rojas had left behind, whether by accident or intent, he didn’t know.

It showed a young woman with eyes too much like his. Beside her, a teenage boy, maybe thirteen, thin and guarded, clutching her hand.

Behind them stood a man whose face was half-obscured, but the Jiménez family crest was emblazoned clearly on the sign behind him.

He turned the photo over. A date. Fifteen years