Chapter 5 - THE FORGED SIGNATURE
By sunrise, I had stopped thinking about divorce.
I was thinking about survival.
Not mine.
Isabella’s.
Adrian arrived at six thirty with coffee and an expression that told me he hadn’t slept either.
I showed him the amendment.
He read it twice.
“This is serious.”
“How serious?”
“If that signature is forged, we’re not dealing with a bad marriage.”
He looked at me.
“We’re dealing with fraud.”
“And if they intended to use it?”
“That depends on what else we find.”
I thought of the unknown message.
“Someone is helping us.”
“Or manipulating you.”
“Either way, they know something.”
Adrian nodded.
“Don’t respond yet.”
At seven, Dr. Navarro examined Isabella.
She documented the blisters.
A bruise near her upper arm.
Another old mark along her knee.
Mild dehydration.
Weight loss.
Nothing catastrophic.
Everything unacceptable.
When the doctor asked how she had gotten hurt, Isabella glanced at me.
I told her, “You can tell the truth.”
She whispered, “Beatriz says truth is whatever adults believe.”
Dr. Navarro stopped writing.
I nearly stopped breathing.
After the examination, I found Beatriz in the breakfast room.
She had called a lawyer.
I could tell because she suddenly knew exactly which words to use.
“This situation is being wildly mischaracterized.”
I sat across from her.
“Did you forge my signature?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I slid a copy of the trust amendment across the table.
She looked down.
For the first time, real panic appeared.
Only for a second.
Then it disappeared.
“That’s your signature.”
“No.”
“You probably signed it before Dubai.”
“No.”
“You sign dozens of papers.”
“Not trust amendments.”
She pushed the paper away.
“Talk to your lawyers.”
“I am.”
I leaned forward.
“Where is Alejandro?”
“I told you.”
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
CHECK THE GARAGE UNDER THE BLUE FERRARI.
I stood.
Beatriz’s eyes followed me.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
The blue Ferrari had belonged to my father.
I almost never drove it.
It remained under a cover in the underground garage.
Adrian came with me.
We removed the cover.
Nothing looked unusual.
Then I noticed the rear passenger tire.
A thin strip of gray tape was stuck beneath the wheel well.
I reached under.
My fingers touched plastic.
I pulled out a waterproof envelope.
Inside were photocopies.
Bank transfers.
Hotel receipts.
Photographs.
And a handwritten note.
Mateo, if you are reading this, they know you came home.
Do not trust the alarm system.
At the bottom was a name.
Lucía Serrano.
I knew Lucía.
She had been Isabella’s nanny.
Beatriz fired her two months after I left.
Or at least that was what I had been told.
I turned the note over.
One final sentence was written on the back.
May you like
I did not quit.
She made me disappear.
