November 19, 2025 • 13 mins
#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales
#truecrimefiles #crimeofpassion #toxicrelationship #fatalaffair #darksecrets In the second installment, the dangerous affair escalates, revealing more of the manipulation, jealousy, and control that dominated Beatriz and Óscar’s relationship. Tensions rise, and the shadow of impending tragedy looms as actions fueled by obsession start to spiral out of control. This chapter uncovers how passion turned toxic, setting the stage for a fatal outcome that would shock those around them. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, crimeofpassion, toxicrelationship, fatalaffair, betrayalstory, darksecrets, chillingevents, obsessiveaffair, murdercase, shockingcrime, realcrime, loveanddanger, passionandmurder, tragicstory
#truecrimefiles #crimeofpassion #toxicrelationship #fatalaffair #darksecrets In the second installment, the dangerous affair escalates, revealing more of the manipulation, jealousy, and control that dominated Beatriz and Óscar’s relationship. Tensions rise, and the shadow of impending tragedy looms as actions fueled by obsession start to spiral out of control. This chapter uncovers how passion turned toxic, setting the stage for a fatal outcome that would shock those around them. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, crimeofpassion, toxicrelationship, fatalaffair, betrayalstory, darksecrets, chillingevents, obsessiveaffair, murdercase, shockingcrime, realcrime, loveanddanger, passionandmurder, tragicstory
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Shadows in the mansion the final summer of Oscar Chapter one,
behind closed doors. On the surface, everything looked picture perfect.
The mansion sparkled, the gardens were manicured, and every guest
who walked through the gates thought they were entering a
little pocket of luxury carved out of the chaos of
(00:20):
Mexico City. But what people didn't see, what they didn't
want to see, was the darker rhythm pulsing inside those walls.
Oscar Rojas was at the center of it, though most
didn't realize it. He was only eighteen, with that restless
energy that comes with being so young when the world
feels wide open and terrifying at the same time. To
(00:43):
every one outside, he looked like the lucky boy who
had stumbled into the good graces of Beatrice Montiel, a
woman of forty five with money, charm, and influence. But
those who worked inside the house, the drivers, the maids,
the cooks, they knew better. They saw the way Oscar's
shoulders hunched whenever she raised her voice. They noticed how
(01:06):
his jokes got cut short with a sharp glare, how
his laughter died in his throat when she didn't approve,
And although he denied it. Every time someone asked, the
truth seeped through his body language. He was scared of her.
One of the gardeners swore that he once caught a
glimpse of the boy flinching before Beatrice even finished her sentence,
as if he already knew punishment was coming. That kind
(01:29):
of fear doesn't sprout overnight. It grows watered by constant
criticism and control. Yet no one stepped in. Who would.
The hierarchy in that mansion was carved in stone. Beatriz
was the queen, and every one else, no matter their title,
was replaceable. Confronting her wasn't just bold, it was professional suicide.
(01:55):
So the silence stretched on chapter two, the public humiliation.
The breaking point at least the first visible crack came
during one of Beatrice's famous private parties. She had a
taste for exclusivity, champagne fountains, live musicians strumming guitars by
the pool. Trays of were deervs carried by staff in
(02:18):
crisp uniforms. Guests wore designer clothes and sunglasses at night,
laughing too loud at stories that weren't that funny. Oscar
was there, as always not exactly a guest, not exactly staff,
something in between. Beatrice liked to parade him around like
an accessory, proved that she could still capture the attention
(02:39):
of someone half her age. That night, without warning, she
snapped at him in front of everyone. Stop acting like
a child, she hissed, her voice sharp enough to slice
through the music. You don't even know how to address
people properly. Her words landed like a slap. The guests froze,
(03:02):
some hiding their discomfort behind awkward SIPs of champagne, others
smirking because scandal always tastes sweeter than wine. Oscar's face burned.
He lowered his gaze, staring at the polished marble floor
while a few chuckles rippled through the room. In that moment,
he felt like a prop an object being displayed and corrected,
(03:23):
not a person. Later that night, when the last guest
had left and the laughter had drained from the halls,
the real storm came. One of the staff members, who
was lingering near by, overheard the eruption. Beatrice's voice echoed
through the mansion full of venom. You embarrassed me, she spat,
(03:46):
Do you have any idea what it looks? Like when
you stand there like an idiot, you should be grateful, grateful. Instead,
you make me look like a fool. Oscar tried to
defend himself, but his words dissolved under her fury. Gratitude,
in her eyes, meant total submission. Anything less was betrayal.
(04:10):
Chapter three. The rumors. Around this time, whispers began to circulate,
Rumors that Oscar had been speaking with a girl, some
on his own age, a regular at one of the
Jim's Beatrice liked to frequent. Nobody knew if it was serious,
or if it was just small talk that gave him
a taste of normality. But it didn't matter. For Oscar,
(04:32):
those conversations were oxygen. She represented everything he'd been missing, freedom, youth,
or reminder that he was still allowed to laugh without permission.
Maybe it wasn't love, Maybe it was just survival, a
distraction from the suffocating grip Beatriz had over him. When
Beatrice caught wind of it, the reaction was volcanic. The
(04:56):
story goes that she hurled a crystal glass against the wall,
shards exploding across the tiles like sparks. If you ever
see her again, she threatened, I'll take everything away. From you.
No more clothes, no more money, no more roof over
your head. You'll crawl back to that miserable barrio you
came from with nothing. Oscar's chest tightened. He wasn't ready
(05:21):
to call her bluff. He'd seen how ruthless she could be,
how quick she was to cut people out of her life.
The fear of losing everything she provided weighed heavier than
the desire to escape, so he stayed. Chapter four, The
Silent Prison. From then on he spent more and more
(05:43):
time locked inside the mansion. The gilded cage looked glamorous
from the outside, expensive art on the walls, sleek leather furniture,
a pool that sparkled under the sun, But inside it
was a prison. Neighbors rarely saw the couple. On the
rare occasions they did, it was always the same Beatrice
(06:04):
walking ahead, commanding, and Oscar trailing slightly behind, smiling with
his lips but not his eyes. Some people suspected the truth.
A shop owner in the area once spotted Oscar buying
something and noticed bruises on his arm. Faint but unmistakable.
Are you okay, the man asked gently. Oscar froze, then
(06:27):
gave a nervous shrug, muttering something about bumping into furniture.
The conversation ended as quickly as it started. Nobody pushed further.
The silence thickened. Chapter five, The Escape Plan. But silence
doesn't last forever. By late summer, Oscar couldn't take it
(06:50):
any more. The humiliation, the control, the constant surveillance. It
was eating him alive. He began to dream of escape,
not just an abet distract terms, but as a concrete plan.
He reached out to a friend from his old neighborhood,
someone who knew him before the fancy clothes, before the
(07:10):
cars and restaurants, someone who remembered the real Oscar. According
to messages later found on his phone, he confessed everything,
the suffocation, the fear, the desperation. I can't do this anymore,
one message read, I just want my freedom back. I
don't care about the money, I don't care about the clothes.
(07:34):
I just need to breathe again. The plan was simple,
slip away quietly, crash at his friend's place for a while,
and figure it out from there. It wasn't perfect, but
it was a lifeline. Chapter six, The Discovery. But Beatrice
wasn't blind. She had a knack for sensing when people
(07:57):
were slipping through her fingers. She started noticing small things,
money missing from her accounts, unusual phone activity, nervous glances
from Oscar. Her suspicion grew into fury. Witnesses later described
her as more volatile than ever. In those final days.
(08:17):
She prowled the mansion at night, heels clicking against the
marble floors. Long after midnight. Staff whispered about the sound
of glass clinking as she poured drink after drink, sitting
in silence with eyes that never seemed to blink. Oscar
meanwhile shrank further into himself. He wanted to leave, but
the thought of her wrath kept him frozen. What if
(08:40):
she found him? What if she ruined his family financially
as revenge. The fear of what she might do was
enough to keep him paralyzed. Chapter seven, The final night September.
Heat hung heavy in the air. That night, the mansion,
usually buzzing with staff and back background noise, felt oddly still.
(09:04):
Around ten o'clock, muffled voices rose from one of the rooms.
Employees later confirmed they heard Beatriz and Oscar arguing, though
the words were too muffled to make out. Some said
Oscar's tone was calm, almost pleading, while hers was sharp,
broken into jagged fragments of rage. By the time Oscar
(09:25):
retreated to his room, he looked composed, but his hands trembled.
One of the house staffs swore he was pale, lips
pressed tight, like he was holding back the urge to scream.
Midnight crept in. The staff retired to their quarters. The
mansions hallways dimmed pools of light glowing faintly against the darkness.
(09:47):
Beatrice sat alone in the grand living room, nursing a
glass of liquor. Her posture was rigid, her eyes fixed
on the amber liquid, as though the answers were hiding
inside it. Finally, she each step up the staircase echoed
like a drumbeat. Her face was unreadable, but her body
(10:07):
moved with the tension of someone who had been obsessing
over a single thought for hours. Minutes later, a scream
shattered the silence. Chapter eight, The Fall of the Queen.
What exactly happened after that scream, no one knows with certainty.
The details blurred between witness testimonies, police reports, and media spin.
(10:31):
Some say it was sudden others claim it had been
brewing for days. What everyone agrees on is this Oscar
never walked out of that mansion alive again. The neighborhood
that had once prided itself on its luxury and peace
was thrown into chaos. Sirens pierced the night, red and
blue lights reflecting off the sleek cars parked in pristine driveways.
(10:56):
Neighbors peeked through curtains, shocked that violence had erupted in
their sanctuary. The story spread like wildfire. Newspapers devoured it,
Television anchors dissected it, and online forums swarmed with speculation.
The narrative was messy. A rich, older woman, a young
man from humble roots, a toxic bond that ended in blood.
(11:20):
Beatrice went from being admired to infamous overnight. To some,
she was a predator, a manipulator who destroyed a boy's life.
To others, she was a tragic figure consumed by her
own loneliness and obsession. But for Oscar, none of that mattered.
His story had ended violently and far too soon. Chapter nine,
(11:43):
the silence after the storm. In the days that followed,
the mansion was stripped of its glamour. Police tape replaced
velvet ropes. Investigators trampled through rooms once reserved for VIPs,
and the grand halls echoed not with laughter but with questions.
The staff spoke in hushed tones, haunted by guilt. They
(12:05):
replayed the signs in their heads, the bruises, the flinches,
the cries muffled behind closed doors. Each of them wondered
if they could have done more, if speaking up might
have changed the ending. But the truth settled in like dust.
Nobody had intervened, and now it was too late. Chapter ten,
(12:26):
The Legend of Beatrice and Oscar. The summer of two
thousand eight ended with a stain that the neighborhood could
never scrub clean. Even years later, people still whispered the story.
At cocktail parties, someone would inevitably lean closer and murmur,
Remember Beatrice Montiel, Remember that boy. It became less a
(12:49):
story about individuals and more apparable about power, about silence,
about what happens when control and fear masquerade as love.
Oscar was buried back back in his old neighborhood, where
friends and family mourn not just the boy he was,
but the man he would never get the chance to become.
His name lingered in the air like unfinished music. Beatrice's name, meanwhile,
(13:14):
became a warning, a ghost, proof that behind the curtains
of wealth and glamor, darkness can grow unchecked, and that
sometimes silence is deadlier than violence. To be continued
Shadows in the mansion the final summer of Oscar Chapter one,
behind closed doors. On the surface, everything looked picture perfect.
The mansion sparkled, the gardens were manicured, and every guest
who walked through the gates thought they were entering a
little pocket of luxury carved out of the chaos of
(00:20):
Mexico City. But what people didn't see, what they didn't
want to see, was the darker rhythm pulsing inside those walls.
Oscar Rojas was at the center of it, though most
didn't realize it. He was only eighteen, with that restless
energy that comes with being so young when the world
feels wide open and terrifying at the same time. To
(00:43):
every one outside, he looked like the lucky boy who
had stumbled into the good graces of Beatrice Montiel, a
woman of forty five with money, charm, and influence. But
those who worked inside the house, the drivers, the maids,
the cooks, they knew better. They saw the way Oscar's
shoulders hunched whenever she raised her voice. They noticed how
(01:06):
his jokes got cut short with a sharp glare, how
his laughter died in his throat when she didn't approve,
And although he denied it. Every time someone asked, the
truth seeped through his body language. He was scared of her.
One of the gardeners swore that he once caught a
glimpse of the boy flinching before Beatrice even finished her sentence,
as if he already knew punishment was coming. That kind
(01:29):
of fear doesn't sprout overnight. It grows watered by constant
criticism and control. Yet no one stepped in. Who would.
The hierarchy in that mansion was carved in stone. Beatriz
was the queen, and every one else, no matter their title,
was replaceable. Confronting her wasn't just bold, it was professional suicide.
(01:55):
So the silence stretched on chapter two, the public humiliation.
The breaking point at least the first visible crack came
during one of Beatrice's famous private parties. She had a
taste for exclusivity, champagne fountains, live musicians strumming guitars by
the pool. Trays of were deervs carried by staff in
(02:18):
crisp uniforms. Guests wore designer clothes and sunglasses at night,
laughing too loud at stories that weren't that funny. Oscar
was there, as always not exactly a guest, not exactly staff,
something in between. Beatrice liked to parade him around like
an accessory, proved that she could still capture the attention
(02:39):
of someone half her age. That night, without warning, she
snapped at him in front of everyone. Stop acting like
a child, she hissed, her voice sharp enough to slice
through the music. You don't even know how to address
people properly. Her words landed like a slap. The guests froze,
(03:02):
some hiding their discomfort behind awkward SIPs of champagne, others
smirking because scandal always tastes sweeter than wine. Oscar's face burned.
He lowered his gaze, staring at the polished marble floor
while a few chuckles rippled through the room. In that moment,
he felt like a prop an object being displayed and corrected,
(03:23):
not a person. Later that night, when the last guest
had left and the laughter had drained from the halls,
the real storm came. One of the staff members, who
was lingering near by, overheard the eruption. Beatrice's voice echoed
through the mansion full of venom. You embarrassed me, she spat,
(03:46):
Do you have any idea what it looks? Like when
you stand there like an idiot, you should be grateful, grateful. Instead,
you make me look like a fool. Oscar tried to
defend himself, but his words dissolved under her fury. Gratitude,
in her eyes, meant total submission. Anything less was betrayal.
(04:10):
Chapter three. The rumors. Around this time, whispers began to circulate,
Rumors that Oscar had been speaking with a girl, some
on his own age, a regular at one of the
Jim's Beatrice liked to frequent. Nobody knew if it was serious,
or if it was just small talk that gave him
a taste of normality. But it didn't matter. For Oscar,
(04:32):
those conversations were oxygen. She represented everything he'd been missing, freedom, youth,
or reminder that he was still allowed to laugh without permission.
Maybe it wasn't love, Maybe it was just survival, a
distraction from the suffocating grip Beatriz had over him. When
Beatrice caught wind of it, the reaction was volcanic. The
(04:56):
story goes that she hurled a crystal glass against the wall,
shards exploding across the tiles like sparks. If you ever
see her again, she threatened, I'll take everything away. From you.
No more clothes, no more money, no more roof over
your head. You'll crawl back to that miserable barrio you
came from with nothing. Oscar's chest tightened. He wasn't ready
(05:21):
to call her bluff. He'd seen how ruthless she could be,
how quick she was to cut people out of her life.
The fear of losing everything she provided weighed heavier than
the desire to escape, so he stayed. Chapter four, The
Silent Prison. From then on he spent more and more
(05:43):
time locked inside the mansion. The gilded cage looked glamorous
from the outside, expensive art on the walls, sleek leather furniture,
a pool that sparkled under the sun, But inside it
was a prison. Neighbors rarely saw the couple. On the
rare occasions they did, it was always the same Beatrice
(06:04):
walking ahead, commanding, and Oscar trailing slightly behind, smiling with
his lips but not his eyes. Some people suspected the truth.
A shop owner in the area once spotted Oscar buying
something and noticed bruises on his arm. Faint but unmistakable.
Are you okay, the man asked gently. Oscar froze, then
(06:27):
gave a nervous shrug, muttering something about bumping into furniture.
The conversation ended as quickly as it started. Nobody pushed further.
The silence thickened. Chapter five, The Escape Plan. But silence
doesn't last forever. By late summer, Oscar couldn't take it
(06:50):
any more. The humiliation, the control, the constant surveillance. It
was eating him alive. He began to dream of escape,
not just an abet distract terms, but as a concrete plan.
He reached out to a friend from his old neighborhood,
someone who knew him before the fancy clothes, before the
(07:10):
cars and restaurants, someone who remembered the real Oscar. According
to messages later found on his phone, he confessed everything,
the suffocation, the fear, the desperation. I can't do this anymore,
one message read, I just want my freedom back. I
don't care about the money, I don't care about the clothes.
(07:34):
I just need to breathe again. The plan was simple,
slip away quietly, crash at his friend's place for a while,
and figure it out from there. It wasn't perfect, but
it was a lifeline. Chapter six, The Discovery. But Beatrice
wasn't blind. She had a knack for sensing when people
(07:57):
were slipping through her fingers. She started noticing small things,
money missing from her accounts, unusual phone activity, nervous glances
from Oscar. Her suspicion grew into fury. Witnesses later described
her as more volatile than ever. In those final days.
(08:17):
She prowled the mansion at night, heels clicking against the
marble floors. Long after midnight. Staff whispered about the sound
of glass clinking as she poured drink after drink, sitting
in silence with eyes that never seemed to blink. Oscar
meanwhile shrank further into himself. He wanted to leave, but
the thought of her wrath kept him frozen. What if
(08:40):
she found him? What if she ruined his family financially
as revenge. The fear of what she might do was
enough to keep him paralyzed. Chapter seven, The final night September.
Heat hung heavy in the air. That night, the mansion,
usually buzzing with staff and back background noise, felt oddly still.
(09:04):
Around ten o'clock, muffled voices rose from one of the rooms.
Employees later confirmed they heard Beatriz and Oscar arguing, though
the words were too muffled to make out. Some said
Oscar's tone was calm, almost pleading, while hers was sharp,
broken into jagged fragments of rage. By the time Oscar
(09:25):
retreated to his room, he looked composed, but his hands trembled.
One of the house staffs swore he was pale, lips
pressed tight, like he was holding back the urge to scream.
Midnight crept in. The staff retired to their quarters. The
mansions hallways dimmed pools of light glowing faintly against the darkness.
(09:47):
Beatrice sat alone in the grand living room, nursing a
glass of liquor. Her posture was rigid, her eyes fixed
on the amber liquid, as though the answers were hiding
inside it. Finally, she each step up the staircase echoed
like a drumbeat. Her face was unreadable, but her body
(10:07):
moved with the tension of someone who had been obsessing
over a single thought for hours. Minutes later, a scream
shattered the silence. Chapter eight, The Fall of the Queen.
What exactly happened after that scream, no one knows with certainty.
The details blurred between witness testimonies, police reports, and media spin.
(10:31):
Some say it was sudden others claim it had been
brewing for days. What everyone agrees on is this Oscar
never walked out of that mansion alive again. The neighborhood
that had once prided itself on its luxury and peace
was thrown into chaos. Sirens pierced the night, red and
blue lights reflecting off the sleek cars parked in pristine driveways.
(10:56):
Neighbors peeked through curtains, shocked that violence had erupted in
their sanctuary. The story spread like wildfire. Newspapers devoured it,
Television anchors dissected it, and online forums swarmed with speculation.
The narrative was messy. A rich, older woman, a young
man from humble roots, a toxic bond that ended in blood.
(11:20):
Beatrice went from being admired to infamous overnight. To some,
she was a predator, a manipulator who destroyed a boy's life.
To others, she was a tragic figure consumed by her
own loneliness and obsession. But for Oscar, none of that mattered.
His story had ended violently and far too soon. Chapter nine,
(11:43):
the silence after the storm. In the days that followed,
the mansion was stripped of its glamour. Police tape replaced
velvet ropes. Investigators trampled through rooms once reserved for VIPs,
and the grand halls echoed not with laughter but with questions.
The staff spoke in hushed tones, haunted by guilt. They
(12:05):
replayed the signs in their heads, the bruises, the flinches,
the cries muffled behind closed doors. Each of them wondered
if they could have done more, if speaking up might
have changed the ending. But the truth settled in like dust.
Nobody had intervened, and now it was too late. Chapter ten,
(12:26):
The Legend of Beatrice and Oscar. The summer of two
thousand eight ended with a stain that the neighborhood could
never scrub clean. Even years later, people still whispered the story.
At cocktail parties, someone would inevitably lean closer and murmur,
Remember Beatrice Montiel, Remember that boy. It became less a
(12:49):
story about individuals and more apparable about power, about silence,
about what happens when control and fear masquerade as love.
Oscar was buried back back in his old neighborhood, where
friends and family mourn not just the boy he was,
but the man he would never get the chance to become.
His name lingered in the air like unfinished music. Beatrice's name, meanwhile,
(13:14):
became a warning, a ghost, proof that behind the curtains
of wealth and glamor, darkness can grow unchecked, and that
sometimes silence is deadlier than violence. To be continued
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