Chapter 7 - TOMORROW
The flash drive contained forty-seven files.
Most were boring.
Construction schedules.
Flight itineraries.
Hotel confirmations.
Then Adrian found a folder labeled FINAL.
Inside was an email chain.
Alejandro.
Beatriz.
A man named Omar Khalid.
I knew Omar.
He was a subcontractor on the Dubai project.
One message read.
MATEO WILL INSPECT THE SOUTH TOWER BEFORE DEPARTURE.
Another.
ENSURE THE SERVICE ELEVATOR IS AVAILABLE.
Another.
WE ONLY NEED A DELAY OF TWO MINUTES.
I felt sick.
Adrian read silently.
“This isn’t enough to prove they planned to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“But it’s enough to call the police.”
“I know.”
“Mateo.”
I looked at him.
“Call them.”
By noon, investigators were involved.
Quietly.
They advised me not to confront anyone further.
They wanted the house preserved.
Devices collected legally.
Statements documented.
And Beatriz separated from Isabella.
When I told Beatriz she needed to leave temporarily, she exploded.
“You can’t throw me out.”
“I can protect my daughter.”
“She is my daughter too.”
“No.”
The word came out before I could soften it.
Beatriz stared at me.
“You married me when she was four.”
She stepped closer.
“I raised her.”
“You controlled her.”
“I taught her.”
“You frightened her.”
“I loved her.”
Isabella stood at the top of the stairs.
Neither of us had noticed her.
She spoke quietly.
“No, you didn’t.”
Beatriz turned.
My daughter gripped the railing.
Her knees trembled.
But she stayed.
“You said Mommy died because I was difficult.”
My head snapped toward Beatriz.
“What?”
Beatriz went white.
Isabella looked at me.
“She said my real mom got tired of me.”
My chest felt hollow.
Isabella’s biological mother, Sofia, had died from a cerebral aneurysm when Isabella was three.
One moment she was making breakfast.
The next she collapsed.
There was nothing anyone could have done.
I had spent years making sure Isabella knew that.
Beatriz had apparently spent months destroying it.
“That is not true.”
I climbed the stairs.
“Sweetheart, none of that is true.”
“I know.”
Isabella’s voice cracked.
“Now.”
One word.
Now.
That word would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Police arrived at three fourteen.
Beatriz’s attorney arrived eight minutes later.
She packed two suitcases.
As she passed me in the entrance hall, she leaned closer.
“You think you won.”
“I don’t care about winning.”
“You should.”
Her eyes were cold again.
“Because Alejandro knows things about your company you don’t.”
I didn’t react.
She smiled.
“And when he talks, you’ll lose everything.”
Then she left.
At four twenty, Adrian received a call.
He listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
I asked.
He hung up slowly.
“Alejandro was found.”
“Where?”
“In Gibraltar.”
“Good.”
“No.”
Adrian looked at me.
“He was found unconscious in a hotel room.”
May you like
My stomach dropped.
“And someone cleaned out every account connected to him two hours before the police arrived.”
