Chapter 9 - THE PLAN AFTER SWITZERLANDI wanted to know everything.
Sofia wanted to know only what we could prove.
That difference kept me sane.
Clara explained that Raúl and Javier had discussed using Isabella's enrollment as the first step in creating legal and emotional distance between us.
If Isabella was labeled unstable...
If I was portrayed as a father who had voluntarily placed her in residential schooling...
If Beatriz became my wife...
Then every future conflict could be framed around one idea:
Mateo Serrano was a wealthy man incapable of handling his private life.
"Why would that matter?" I asked.
Sofia answered.
"Because control over you might be worth more than stealing from you."
My company had grown far beyond anything I envisioned when I started it.
Hundreds of millions under management.
Complex partnerships.
Joint ventures.
Development rights.
Banking relationships.
A person who gained enough influence over me didn't need to own the company.
They needed access.
Signatures.
Introductions.
Trust.
"Could they have taken the business?"
"Not easily," Sofia said.
"But they didn't need all of it."
Clara nodded.
"My brother always said rich people don't notice money leaving because they watch totals, not leaks."
I looked at her.
"Your brother was wrong."
"Apparently not for eighteen months."
That one landed.
She was right.
By evening, forensic accountants had identified more suspicious invoices.
€14.2 million.
Then €16.7 million.
The number kept climbing.
But money no longer shocked me.
What shocked me was how methodically they had isolated Isabella.
We found altered school forms.
Fake emails.
Messages Beatriz had sent from accounts resembling mine.
Instructions to staff.
Household schedules.
Even meal logs.
One spreadsheet contained Isabella's name.
Beside it were columns.
CHORES.
COMPLIANCE.
CALL PERFORMANCE.
CONSEQUENCES.
I stared at the file.
"Call performance?"
Sofia looked sick.
The notes explained it.
SMILED / 8 MINUTES.
MENTIONED MISSING FATHER / WARNING.
ASKED WHEN HE RETURNS / PHONE REMOVED.
My daughter's conversations with me had been graded.
Like employee performance.
Like something from a prison.
I walked outside.
I needed air.
Isabella was near the pool drawing.
She looked up.
"Bad stuff?"
I forced a smile.
"Some."
"About me?"
"No."
That was partly a lie.
She studied my face with the frightening sensitivity she had developed over the past months.
"You do that too."
"Do what?"
"Say you're okay when you're not."
I sat beside her.
"Apparently we're both bad liars."
She smiled faintly.
Then continued drawing.
"What is it?"
"Our new house."
I looked at the paper.
A small house.
Blue roof.
Trees.
No pool.
"No villa?"
She shook her head.
"No cameras."
My throat tightened.
"Okay."
"Can we really move?"
"Absolutely."
"Far?"
"As far as you want."
She considered that.
"Not too far from school."
I laughed softly.
"Deal."
Then she drew another figure.
A woman.
"Who's that?"
"Mom."
I stopped.
Isabella's mother, Elena, had died when Isabella was four.
Cancer.
Six years later, grief still appeared in unpredictable places.
"Do you remember her?"
"A little."
"What do you remember?"
"Her perfume."
I smiled.
"Orange blossoms."
"Yes."
"And she sang badly."
Isabella giggled.
"Really badly."
We sat together.
Then she asked:
"Would Mom be mad at you?"
The question struck hard.
"For what?"
"For leaving me with Beatriz."
I couldn't lie.
"Probably."
"Are you mad at yourself?"
"Yes."
She put down the pencil.
"Beatriz said guilt makes people easy to control."
I stared at her.
"When did she say that?"
"To Javier."
"About me?"
"I think."
I looked toward the house.
Maybe that was the next phase.
Not only making Isabella look unstable.
Making me feel responsible.
Guilt could make me overreact.
Overcorrect.
Sign something.
Trust someone offering a solution.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown international number.
I answered.
Silence.
"Hello?"
A man spoke.
"Mateo."
Javier.
Sofia saw my face and immediately moved closer.
"Where are you?"
He laughed.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"I used to think you weren't."
Another laugh.
"You always needed to be the smartest man in the room."
"And apparently you needed my money."
"This isn't about money."
"Then come back."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you've already decided what happened."
"My daughter slept in a utility closet."
"That was Beatriz."
"You knew."
Silence.
"You knew, Javier."
"I knew she was having behavioral issues."
"Don't insult me."
"Mateo—"
"Nine hours locked in a room."
Another silence.
I heard breathing.
"You have footage."
"Enough."
"Listen to me carefully."
"I'm listening."
"Beatriz is dangerous."
My eyes narrowed.
"You introduced me to her."
"I made a mistake."
"For three years?"
"Things changed."
"What things?"
"Raúl."
"He's your partner."
"No."
"Your contracts say otherwise."
"Raúl was useful."
"And Beatriz?"
A longer pause.
"She stopped following the plan."
"What plan?"
"Get access. Build trust. Create contracts."
"Marry me?"
"That was her idea."
I looked at Sofia.
"Did you know what she was doing to Isabella?"
"I told her to stop."
"That's not an answer."
"She became obsessed with winning."
"Winning what?"
"You."
I almost laughed.
"She wanted your life. Your house. Your name. She didn't want Isabella in it."
My entire body went cold.
"Where is Raúl?"
"I don't know."
"Liar."
"Believe whatever you want."
"Why call me?"
"Because Beatriz has something."
"What?"
"Insurance."
"Against whom?"
"Everyone."
"What kind?"
"Recordings. Documents. Copies."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Then you're useless."
"Mateo."
"What?"
"Be careful what Isabella remembers."
My blood froze.
"Explain that."
Javier lowered his voice.
"Children hear things adults forget they said."
"What did she hear?"
"Ask her about the night of May twenty-seventh."
"What happened?"
"You need to ask her."
"Javier—"
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
May 27.
I returned to Isabella.
I didn't interrogate her.
I simply sat down.
After a while, I asked:
"Do you remember May twenty-seventh?"
Her pencil stopped moving.
The color drained from her face.
That was enough.
"What happened?"
She looked toward the house.
May you like
Then whispered:
"That was the night Beatriz thought they killed somebody."
