Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO KNEW MY SCHEDULEJavier Molina had been beside me when my company had seven employees.
He had helped me negotiate our first major acquisition.
He knew my daughter's birthday.
He had attended my father's funeral.
He had once flown overnight from Madrid to New York because I was sick and needed someone to handle a closing.
There are betrayals you expect in business.
Then there are betrayals that rearrange your understanding of your own past.
Sofia examined the forged letter.
"Don't call him."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You were thinking about it."
"I was thinking about several things."
"That's exactly why I'm reminding you."
Andrés entered the study holding his tablet.
"I checked the access logs."
"What logs?"
"Your home office."
I had a secure office inside the villa.
Financial documents.
Travel records.
Encrypted terminals.
Only four people had authorized access.
Me.
Andrés.
Sofia.
Javier.
"Javier entered the office six times during the last three months."
"Why?"
"According to the system, authorized business access."
"I didn't authorize it."
Andrés nodded.
"That's what concerned me."
Sofia looked at me.
"Can he access your personal schedule?"
"Yes."
"Travel changes?"
"Yes."
"Private correspondence?"
"Some."
She turned to Andrés.
"Preserve the logs."
He nodded.
My phone rang.
Javier.
Perfect timing.
I stared at his name.
Sofia mouthed one word.
Normal.
I answered.
"Javier."
"Mateo! I heard you're back."
"Who told you?"
A small pause.
"Beatriz messaged me."
Of course she had.
"I finished early."
"Fantastic. You should have told me. We could've had the team ready."
"I wanted to surprise Isabella."
Another pause.
"How is she?"
I looked at Sofia.
"Why wouldn't she be fine?"
"No reason. Children change so much in three months."
Three months.
Not "while you were away."
Specific.
"You're right."
He laughed.
"Listen, there's something we should discuss before Monday. The Cádiz transaction."
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Come to the villa."
Sofia shook her head violently.
I understood.
Too risky.
I changed course.
"Actually, no. Monday at the office."
"Fine."
"And Javier?"
"Yes?"
"Bring the original authorization papers for the Zurich accounts."
Silence.
Only a fraction too long.
"Why?"
"Audit."
"What audit?"
I smiled without humor.
"Routine."
"Since when do we do surprise audits?"
"Since now."
I ended the call.
Sofia stared at me.
"Zurich accounts?"
"There are no Zurich accounts."
For the first time that evening, she almost smiled.
"Then we know he's nervous."
"He already was."
My phone buzzed again.
Beatriz.
We were standing under the same roof, yet she texted me.
We need to fix this before outsiders ruin our family.
I read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
Isabella is confused. She needs structure, not police.
Another.
I love you.
That one made me physically sick.
I took screenshots.
Sofia instructed me not to respond.
Then something occurred to me.
"Where is Beatriz?"
One of the officers had seen her twenty minutes earlier in the guest suite.
Andrés checked cameras.
Empty.
He checked the front entrance.
Nothing.
Rear entrance.
Nothing.
Garage.
Her car was still there.
Then he pulled up a side camera.
A figure moved near the pool house.
Beatriz.
Carrying something.
"What is that?" I asked.
He enlarged the image.
A laptop bag.
We moved quickly but didn't run.
By the time we reached the pool house, Beatriz was standing beside a stone fire pit.
A small flame flickered inside.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She spun around.
Nothing was in her hands.
Sofia stepped forward.
"Move away from the fire."
"Excuse me?"
"Now."
One of the officers approached.
Beatriz laughed nervously.
"I was burning old papers."
"What papers?" I asked.
"Personal things."
The officer extinguished the flames.
Several documents had already blackened.
But not all.
One page remained partially intact.
I crouched without touching it.
At the top were three words.
PRIVATE ASSET PLAN.
Below them was my name.
Beatriz tried to move closer.
The officer stopped her.
"I'd like to go to a hotel."
Sofia nodded.
"That may be wise."
"I want my belongings."
"They can be collected properly."
"I need my laptop."
The burned documents shifted as water soaked the ashes.
Another fragment became visible.
ISABELLA — RESIDENTIAL PLACEMENT OPTIONS.
My vision narrowed.
"What is that?"
Beatriz looked away.
"Old research."
"Research for what?"
"She was having problems."
"What problems?"
"You weren't here."
There it was.
Her chosen weapon.
My absence.
"You have no idea what she was like."
I stepped closer.
"No. Tell me."
Beatriz's chin lifted.
"Defiant."
"How?"
"She questioned everything."
"She's ten."
"She lied."
"About what?"
"Food. Chores. School."
"She's ten."
"Stop saying that as if children are saints."
"No one said they're saints."
My voice dropped.
"But they are children."
She looked toward Sofia.
Then the officers.
Then me.
Her expression changed.
She was calculating.
"I made mistakes."
It was the first admission.
Small.
Carefully measured.
"I was overwhelmed."
"You lounged above her while she dragged rotting trash through the yard."
"One chore."
"You locked her in a utility room."
"That wasn't—"
"Nine hours."
Her face froze.
I watched her realize we had video.
It happened in stages.
First disbelief.
Then fear.
Then anger.
Finally, something colder.
"She was safe."
I stared at her.
"Safe?"
"She had water."
I felt Sofia's hand close around my forearm.
A reminder.
Control.
Beatriz continued.
"You're acting like I tortured her."
Isabella's voice came from behind us.
"You turned off the light."
Everyone turned.
She stood beside Teresa near the pool-house doorway.
She should not have been there.
Teresa looked apologetic.
"She heard shouting."
I walked toward Isabella immediately.
"You don't need to be here."
But Isabella was staring at Beatriz.
"You turned off the light because you knew I was scared."
Beatriz's expression changed.
"Isabella, you remember things dramatically."
"No."
My daughter shook her head.
"You said being scared would make me learn."
Beatriz said nothing.
Isabella looked at me.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The papers."
"What papers?"
"In the desk."
"Which desk?"
"Her bedroom."
Beatriz stepped forward.
"Absolutely not."
The officer stopped her.
Isabella continued.
"She made me practice my name."
My stomach tightened.
"Practice how?"
"Signing."
"Signing what?"
"I don't know."
"Did you sign papers?"
She nodded.
"Lots."
Sofia went completely still.
"What did they look like?"
"Some had pictures of houses."
My pulse began pounding.
"What houses?"
"One was ours."
Beatriz closed her eyes.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Sofia whispered:
"Property documents."
I looked at Beatriz.
She immediately said, "That's ridiculous."
Sofia turned to me.
"Mateo, we need to check title records and any recent applications involving the villa."
I couldn't understand.
"Isabella cannot transfer property."
"No."
Sofia's expression darkened.
"But documents supposedly signed on behalf of trusts, guardianship structures, or family holding companies can be used to support fraudulent transactions."
Beatriz laughed.
"You're inventing a conspiracy."
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Then Isabella said something none of us expected.
"Javier came here."
I turned slowly.
"When?"
"Lots of times."
"Did you talk to him?"
"No."
"What did he do?"
"He went into Daddy's office with Beatriz."
My heart hammered.
"Anything else?"
Isabella looked at the burned papers.
"One time they were fighting."
"About what?"
"I don't know."
"Try to remember."
She hesitated.
Then repeated the words exactly as a child might remember a strange sentence without understanding it.
"Javier said, 'If he marries you before he discovers the transfers, none of this matters.'"
Nobody spoke.
May you like
Beatriz stared at Isabella with naked hatred.
And that expression told me my daughter had just remembered something she was never supposed to hear.
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