Chapter 5 - THE MESSAGE MAURICIO TRIED TO ERASE
I called him back immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Straight to voicemail.
Rafael had seen the message preview.
“So much for communication through counsel.”
“This involves Dad.”
“It could be bait.”
“I know.”
“It probably is bait.”
“I know.”
“You’re still going to pursue it.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“I hate knowing you.”
Adrian leaned over the table.
“What exactly appeared?”
I repeated it.
“She knew your father was dying.”
Sofia looked disturbed.
My father had died after a short battle with pancreatic cancer.
His diagnosis had been private for nearly five months.
Only family, his doctors, and a few senior Horizonte executives knew initially.
Martin Ortega had known.
Camila should not have.
“What would knowing matter?”
Rafael asked.
I remembered the final months.
Dad was exhausted.
He transferred voting control to me early.
Several acquisitions were delayed.
One planned industrial expansion was canceled entirely.
Then Sofia sat forward.
“The San Marcos plant.”
“What?”
She stood and went toward my father’s archived deal files.
“Five months before Miguel died, Horizonte withdrew from negotiations to acquire San Marcos Manufacturing.”
“I remember.”
“You were handling healthcare assets then.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who bought San Marcos after we withdrew?”
“No.”
“Valdez Industrial.”
My skin prickled.
“Hector?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“With financing from Martin Ortega’s private investment partnership.”
The pattern widened again.
My father became sick.
Martin knew.
Camila somehow knew.
Horizonte withdrew from an industrial acquisition.
The Valdez family acquired it cheaply.
Then years later, Mauricio married me.
Now Martin was secretly financing his family through Horizonte.
I no longer knew whether I was looking at revenge, fraud, or something that had been operating beneath our company for decades.
At 9:00 p.m., Adrian’s investigator found the notary.
Teresa Molina had not gone home.
She had left work early.
Her neighbors had not seen her.
Her phone was off.
I disliked that immediately.
“Can we locate her legally?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
“Already happening.”
At 9:42, my building security called.
A man claiming to be a florist had attempted to deliver twelve white roses.
“No card?”
I asked.
“There is a card.”
“What does it say?”
The security manager read it.
A wife should know when to forgive.
I almost laughed.
“Throw them away.”
“We scanned the package.”
“And?”
“There’s something metallic inside the floral wrapping.”
Rafael stood.
“Do not touch it.”
Security isolated the package.
Police were contacted.
Twenty minutes later, we learned the object was not an explosive.
It was a small GPS tracker.
Someone had expected the flowers to leave the building with me.
Mauricio denied sending them.
Camila denied sending them.
The florist order had been paid using a prepaid card.
Adrian looked at me after the police left.
“You are relocating.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“This building has better security than most embassies.”
“Someone knows where you are.”
“That is why leaving is pointless.”
Rafael agreed reluctantly.
“She’s right.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You are supposed to be the paranoid one.”
“I am.”
“That is why I know moving her creates vulnerability.”
I went to bed at midnight.
I did not sleep.
At 2:16 a.m., I walked into the kitchen.
The penthouse lights were dim.
The city glittered below.
I opened my phone and found an old photograph of Mauricio.
It had been taken during our first trip together.
He was standing on a beach wearing an absurd hat.
He hated that picture.
I loved it.
The man in the photograph looked kind.
Maybe he had been.
That was the difficult part.
People wanted villains to be villains every minute.
They weren’t.
Mauricio had brought me soup when I had the flu.
He called my elderly aunt every Sunday after discovering she was lonely.
He once drove six hours because I mentioned I missed a bakery from childhood.
He also struck me when I disobeyed his mother.
Both versions existed.
One did not cancel the other.
That truth hurt more than pretending every memory had been false.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Elena?”
It was Mauricio.
“Where are you?”
He whispered.
“Not important.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“My mother’s house.”
I heard wind.
“Why are you calling from another number?”
“She took my phone.”
“Your mother took your phone?”
“Yes.”
“You are thirty-six.”
“Can you not do this right now?”
“What do you want?”
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
“My mother knows you’re at Riverstone.”
“I know.”
“She didn’t send the flowers.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because she was furious when she heard about them.”
“Who told her?”
“I did.”
“How did you know?”
He hesitated.
“Mauricio.”
“My attorney heard from police.”
“A police report about a tracker in a private residential building does not automatically reach your divorce attorney within an hour.”
Silence.
“You are still lying.”
“Elena.”
“Tell me the truth or end the call.”
He breathed heavily.
“Gabriel told me.”
“The family lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“How did Gabriel know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re terrible at lying tonight.”
“Fine.”
He lowered his voice further.
“Gabriel has someone watching you.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“On whose instructions?”
“I thought my mother’s.”
“You thought?”
“Until the flowers.”
“What changed?”
“She screamed at Gabriel.”
“For tracking me?”
“For doing something she hadn’t authorized.”
That was not reassuring.
“So Camila is controlling surveillance, just not that surveillance.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re warning me because?”
“Because I didn’t know any of this.”
I laughed once.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I knew my mother hated your family.”
“You knew who I was?”
“No.”
“You filed a forged marital agreement.”
“I did not!”
“You met Gabriel before the wedding.”
His breathing stopped.
“Who told you?”
“Public records exist.”
“That meeting wasn’t about you.”
“What was it about?”
“My father’s company.”
“Try again.”
“Elena, I swear.”
“You have exhausted the value of your promises.”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“After you left last night, my mother opened the safe.”
“What safe?”
“At her house.”
“And?”
“There were files.”
“What files?”
“Your father’s.”
I stopped moving.
“What kind?”
“Medical information.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Say that again.”
“She has copies of hospital reports.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I saw his name.”
“What dates?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you photograph them?”
“Yes.”
“Send them.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“She caught me.”
“Then how are you calling?”
“I left.”
“Where are the photographs?”
“On my phone.”
“The phone she took.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“What else was in the safe?”
“Letters.”
“From whom?”
“Martin Ortega.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“How old?”
“Some were decades old.”
“What did they say?”
“I only read one page.”
“And?”
He hesitated.
“My mother and Martin were working together before your father died.”
“That is not enough.”
“I know.”
“What did the page say?”
“Elena…”
“Say it.”
He finally did.
“Martin wrote that once Miguel was gone, no one would be able to stop the transfer.”
I felt cold.
“What transfer?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw nothing else?”
“One phrase.”
“What phrase?”
“He called it Project Horizon.”
Not Horizonte.
Horizon.
My father’s company had been named Reyes Strategic Investments until eleven months after his illness began.
Only after his death had we renamed the consolidated group Horizonte Capital.
I had chosen that name myself.
Or I thought I had.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“About the wording?”
“Yes.”
“When was the letter dated?”
“Six years ago.”
Before the company had been renamed.
Someone had been calling something Project Horizon before Horizonte Capital existed.
I sat down.
“Where are you now?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
I heard a car door.
Then Mauricio whispered.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“She found me.”
“Who?”
He did not answer.
A woman shouted his name.
Camila.
Then another voice.
Male.
Gabriel.
“Mauricio.”
I stood.
“Leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Get in your car.”
“They blocked it.”
I heard footsteps.
Then Mauricio spoke fast.
“There’s a second safe at the old San Marcos plant.”
“What?”
“Dad mentioned it.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Something struck the phone.
Mauricio cursed.
Then the line disconnected.
I immediately called Rafael.
He answered from the guest room.
“I heard.”
Of course he had installed monitoring on my phone with my permission earlier that evening.
“Send security.”
“To Mauricio?”
“Yes.”
Rafael stared at me from the doorway.
“You want to rescue the man who hit you.”
“No.”
“I want to protect a witness.”
That was what I told myself.
Twenty-seven minutes later, security reached Camila’s street.
Mauricio was gone.
His car remained there.
Camila claimed he had left with a friend.
Gabriel claimed he had never been present.
A neighbor’s camera told a different story.
It showed Mauricio being pushed into a dark SUV.
One man held his left arm.
Gabriel held his right.
May you like
Camila stood on the sidewalk watching.
And as the vehicle drove away, she calmly picked up Mauricio’s phone from the pavement.
