Chapter 10 - The Poisoned Glass
Diego confronted Beatriz the next morning.
She stood near the windows of her hotel suite, holding the photograph.
“Did you poison my father?”
Beatriz did not turn around.
“No.”
“Then why are you frightened?”
“Because I know who did.”
Diego’s anger sharpened.
“You knew all these years?”
“I suspected.”
“Who?”
Beatriz finally faced him.
“Paulina’s mother.”
Diego frowned.
“Lucía Robles died ten years ago.”
“That is what the world believes.”
Marisol stood beside Diego.
Beatriz placed the photograph on the table.
“Your father had an affair with Lucía before either of them married. Octavio knew. He used it to control them.”
Diego stared at her.
“What does that have to do with his death?”
“Lucía was a chemist. She helped create the poison Rafael used.”
“Why?”
“Because Alejandro planned to reveal that Paulina was not Octavio’s biological daughter.”
The room became silent.
“Whose daughter was she?” Marisol asked.
Beatriz’s answer came slowly.
“Alejandro’s.”
Diego stepped backward.
Paulina was his half sister.
His former fiancée.
The engagement had not merely been fraudulent.
It had concealed a truth so dangerous that several people had killed to preserve it.
“Did Paulina know?” he asked.
“I do not believe so.”
“Why would Octavio arrange our marriage?”
“To keep both family fortunes under his control. If you married without children, Paulina would gain access to the Villaseñor trust. Octavio intended to reveal her bloodline only after your death.”
Marisol felt sick.
“And if Diego had married her?”
“The marriage could have been annulled,” Beatriz said. “But the scandal would destroy both families.”
Diego turned away.
“My father allowed this?”
“Your father discovered the full plan shortly before his death. That is why he changed the trust to protect any biological heir you might have.”
Valentina’s existence had not ruined Alejandro’s plan.
She had completed it.
“Why did you support the Robles petition?” Marisol asked.
Beatriz looked at her.
“Because I believed protecting the company would protect Valentina.”
“You tried to take power from her mother.”
“I have spent my entire life solving threats with control.”
“And how has that worked?”
Beatriz had no answer.
Diego contacted the prosecutor.
The new evidence reopened the investigation into Lucía Robles.
A review of death records revealed that Lucía’s coffin had been cremated without independent identification.
Her death certificate had been signed by the same physician who falsified Alejandro’s autopsy.
She might still be alive.
That afternoon, Paulina requested a meeting.
She was under house arrest at a Robles property.
Diego went with Marisol and two investigators.
Paulina looked exhausted.
Without makeup or designer clothing, she seemed younger and far less certain.
Diego placed a photograph of Alejandro and Lucía in front of her.
“Your mother was involved in my father’s death.”
Paulina stared at it.
“My mother died when I was nineteen.”
“No. She disappeared.”
Paulina shook her head.
“This is another lie.”
“Octavio is not your biological father.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Do not say that.”
“Alejandro Villaseñor was.”
Paulina stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
“No.”
“That makes you my half sister.”
She slapped him.
Security moved forward, but Diego raised a hand.
Paulina backed against the wall.
“No. My father would never—”
“Octavio tried to arrange a marriage between us knowing the truth.”
Paulina’s breathing became unsteady.
Years of manipulation collapsed around her.
“He said I had to marry you because our families belonged together.”
“He used you.”
Marisol spoke gently.
“Paulina, where is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Paulina closed her eyes.
Every year on her birthday, she received white lilies with no card.
The florist always claimed the order was anonymous.
Last year, Paulina had traced the payment to a private clinic near Valle de Bravo.
“I may know,” she whispered.
That night, investigators traveled to the clinic.
They discovered an empty room registered to a woman named Elena Ruiz.
Inside were photographs of Paulina from childhood to adulthood.
There were newspaper clippings about Diego.
And a recent photograph of Valentina.
On the back, written in blue ink, were six words:
THE CHILD MUST NEVER REACH FOUR.
May you like
Valentina’s fourth birthday was nine days away.
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