The Architect of Shadows: A Ghost’s Revenge
Chapter 1: The Phantom of the Manzanares
Twenty-four months after the man I swore to love forever handed me divorce papers—and scarcely ninety days before he placed a matching diamond on the finger of the woman I had once called my sister—I found myself buried alive in the belly of Madrid.
My ceiling was the weeping, damp concrete of a bridge spanning the dark, sluggish waters of the Manzanares River. My only armor against the world was a frayed, moth-eaten woolen blanket that smelled of diesel and despair. Above my head, the vibrant, cosmopolitan pulse of the city mocked me. I could hear the rhythmic thrum of expensive tires on asphalt, the distant, melodic laughter drifting down from heated rooftop terraces. Not so long ago, I had been the one on those terraces, swirling crisp Albariño wine in crystal glasses, sketching out a future that turned out to be nothing more than a beautiful, devastating lie.
