Chapter 15 - I WAS THE TARGET
I stared at the photograph until my attorney gently took it from my hands.
For days, I had believed Margaret wanted money.
Then revenge.
Then control.
But this was personal.
I called Andrew.
“Did your mother ever threaten me?”
“No.”
“Think.”
He went silent.
“When we first got engaged, she said something.”
“What?”
“She asked whether I was sure I wanted children with you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“She said mixing families creates permanent consequences.”
At the time, Andrew thought she was being elitist.
Now the words sounded different.
Investigators searched the Connecticut property.
In a locked desk, they found a diary.
Most entries were mundane.
Social events.
Business meetings.
Complaints.
Then my name began appearing.
Mariana is too trusted.
Mariana has access Alejandro never gives outsiders.
Andrew is becoming dependent on her.
Later entries became darker.
If she leaves Andrew before we are ready, everything collapses.
Another line:
The girl must remain inside the family until the Escalante guarantees are exposed.
I felt sick.
Margaret had not wanted me gone.
Not initially.
She wanted me trapped.
For years, her insults had served a purpose.
Make me insecure.
Make me work harder for their approval.
Make me prove my loyalty.
And it worked.
Every time Margaret questioned whether I belonged, I gave more.
More time.
More money.
More access.
More protection.
She had understood my weakness better than I did.
I wanted to earn love from people who had already decided to use me.
The final diary entry was written two nights before the party.
Brenda wants Mariana removed now.
Andrew agrees.
Fools.
Once Mariana leaves, Escalante money leaves with her.
Then came another sentence.
If they insist on divorce, I will need the original guarantee.
My attorney looked at me.
“What original guarantee?”
I knew immediately.
Four years earlier, when Whitmore Capital was collapsing, I signed a personal guarantee tied to my trust.
The original document had been stored in a private Escalante archive.
Or so I thought.
I called headquarters.
“Check the vault.”
Twenty minutes later, my father called.
His voice was unusually tense.
“Mariana.”
“What?”
“The original guarantee is missing.”
My throat tightened.
“Can Margaret use it?”
“Not legally.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
My father paused.
“If she alters the attached schedules, she could create enough confusion to freeze billions during litigation.”
May you like
Margaret had vanished.
And she was carrying the one document powerful enough to drag my family into the fire with her.
