Chapter 7 — The Bride They Chose
Police found the burner phone in a trash bin near the church.
Alonso was gone.
But a security camera showed him entering a taxi twenty minutes earlier.
His face was partially hidden beneath a cap.
Beside him sat Evangelina.
“She left the mansion through a service tunnel,” Reyes explained.
The tunnel ran from the wine cellar to a neighboring property once owned by Octavio’s father.
Evangelina had escaped while agents searched the chapel.
Renata almost admired the planning.
Almost.
Investigators spent the afternoon examining her medical history.
At six, Lucía returned with a file recovered from Evangelina’s study.
The cover was marked with Renata’s maiden name.
Inside were documents dating back more than seven years—before Renata had met Alonso.
There were employment records, university transcripts, photographs, medical summaries, and reports about her parents’ deaths.
Renata turned each page with growing disbelief.
Someone had followed her.
Studied her.
Reduced her life to a list of useful weaknesses.
Orphan.
No siblings.
Limited social network.
Accounting degree.
Financially responsible.
History of reproductive complications after pelvic trauma.
Renata stared at the last line.
“What does this mean?”
Lucía read it carefully.
“The report suggests your old injury may have made pregnancy more difficult.”
“Evangelina knew.”
“Yes.”
“Before Alonso married me.”
“Yes.”
Renata laughed once.
The sound broke in her throat.
For six years, Evangelina had blamed her for failing to give the family an heir.
Yet she had known from the beginning.
“She chose someone she could shame,” Renata said.
Lucía turned another page.
A private investigator had written a recommendation.
Subject demonstrates high intelligence but low social support. Strong candidate for marital integration and document access.
Renata felt sick.
Alonso’s courtship returned in fragments.
He had praised her independence.
He asked detailed questions about her job.
He encouraged her to work from home after the wedding.
Then he began asking her to review contracts.
At first, the documents were legitimate.
Later, he requested signatures on “routine family matters.”
When she asked questions, he kissed her and called her overly careful.
“He trained me to stop reading,” she whispered.
“No,” Lucía said. “He tried to.”
“But I signed some forms.”
“Legitimate forms mixed with fraudulent ones. That is a common manipulation.”
“I should have known.”
“You discovered it.”
“After nine months.”
“Before they finished using you.”
Renata closed the file.
“Why me?”
“Because you were an accountant with a clean record and no powerful family. Your name gave their shell companies credibility.”
A knock sounded.
Octavio entered.
He looked exhausted.
His suit was wrinkled, and he carried no driver, attorney, or assistant.
Lucía stood.
“You were not invited.”
“I came to speak with Renata.”
“Anything you say may be relevant to the investigation.”
“I understand.”
Renata watched him carefully.
Octavio placed an old photograph on the table.
It showed Renata at nineteen, lying in a hospital bed.
Beside her stood a younger Octavio.
Renata stared.
“You were there?”
“You were unconscious.”
“Why?”
Octavio sat heavily.
“The charity fund that paid for your operation belonged to Grupo Ibarra.”
Renata remembered the anonymous donor who covered the balance.
“You paid for it?”
“Rafael did. He reviewed scholarship and medical cases for the foundation.”
“Did Evangelina know?”
“Later.”
He looked ashamed.
“Rafael admired your academic record. He followed your career. Years afterward, when we needed a junior forensic accountant, he suggested hiring you.”
“But I never worked for Grupo Ibarra.”
“Evangelina rejected the recommendation.”
“Then she sent Alonso.”
Octavio closed his eyes.
“I believe so.”
Renata felt the final pieces fit together.
Rafael had noticed her ability.
Evangelina had noticed her vulnerability.
One wanted to hire her.
The other wanted to control her.
“Why tell me this?” Renata asked.
“Because Rafael left you something.”
Octavio removed a small key from his pocket.
“He placed a box in a private vault before he died. The instructions said it could be opened only by you.”
Renata stared at the key.
“How would he know I might need it?”
May you like
Octavio looked toward the documents proving his family had investigated her life.
“Perhaps Rafael understood my wife before I did.”
