Chapter 7
Rosa stared at the screen.
“Verónica knows her?”
Mateo nodded.
“Maybe.”
Elena looked at the record.
“Maybe is not enough.”
Mateo opened another file.
“Then look at this.”
The document showed a series of property transactions.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Clara Vega.
Gabriel leaned closer.
“She was involved in the management company.”
Mateo nodded.
“And the company received payments from the building.”
Rosa looked at him.
“How did you find all this?”
Mateo hesitated.
“After I came back, I started looking.”
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
Rosa stared at him.
“You were seventeen.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“You should have been studying.”
“I was studying.”
Mateo looked down.
“But I was also looking.”
Rosa felt a painful mixture of pride and sadness.
She reached across the table and held his hand.
“You shouldn't have had to.”
“I know.”
Elena examined the documents.
“Clara may know what her father did.”
“Will she talk?” Gabriel asked.
Elena shook her head.
“Not unless she has a reason.”
Mateo looked at the screen.
“She may already have one.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
Mateo opened a second file.
A lawsuit.
Clara Vega had filed a complaint against an unknown party.
The case was sealed.
But the date was recent.
Only three months old.
Elena immediately became serious.
“Can you access the details?”
“Not everything.”
“Find out who the defendant is.”
Mateo worked for several minutes.
Then his face changed.
He turned the screen around.
Rosa read the name.
Her hands went cold.
The defendant was Verónica Castañeda.
Rosa looked at Arturo.
“What did your wife do to Clara?”
Arturo stared at the screen.
“I don't know.”
Mateo gave him a hard look.
“You never know anything.”
Arturo did not respond.
Elena picked up her phone.
“We need to contact Clara.”
They found her office address.
It was in a modern building downtown.
The same building where Verónica had once worked.
The irony was not lost on Rosa.
When they arrived, Clara was waiting in the lobby.
She was a woman in her late forties.
Elegant.
Tired.
She looked at Rosa for a long moment.
Then she said:
“You are Ernesto Castañeda's daughter.”
Rosa nodded.
Clara looked at Arturo.
“And you are his grandson.”
Arturo lowered his eyes.
Clara smiled without warmth.
“I know exactly who you are.”
Rosa felt a chill.
“What do you know?”
Clara looked around the lobby.
“Not here.”
They followed her to a private office.
Clara closed the door.
Then she placed a file on the table.
“This is why I sued Verónica.”
Rosa opened the file.
Inside were financial records.
Emails.
Copies of contracts.
And a letter from Julián Vega.
Rosa's breath caught.
Clara spoke.
“My father kept records of everything.”
“Why didn't he tell the police?”
“Because he was afraid.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
Everyone had been afraid.
For decades.
Clara continued.
“He helped Sebastián transfer the property.”
Rosa looked at her.
“Why?”
“Money.”
“And my father?”
“He found out.”
“What happened to him?”
Clara looked at Rosa.
“I don't know.”
Rosa stared at her.
“You don't know?”
“My father never told me.”
“But you have his records.”
“Yes.”
Clara opened another folder.
“This is what I found after his death.”
Inside was a photograph.
A car.
An old black sedan.
Rosa recognized it.
Her father's car.
Clara pointed to the image.
“My father took this photograph the night your father died.”
Rosa's heart began pounding.
“Why?”
Clara looked at her.
“Because he was afraid he would be blamed.”
Rosa looked closer.
The car had a dent on the front bumper.
Her father's car had never had a dent.
At least, not when he left home.
Rosa whispered:
“What happened?”
Clara answered:
“My father said Sebastián came back that night with blood on his shirt.”
No one spoke.
Then Clara opened the last folder.
“There is one more thing.”
Inside was a letter.
Written by Julián Vega.
Addressed to Rosa.
But it had never been delivered.
The date was thirty years old.
May you like
And the first line read:
“Señora Rosa, your father's death was not an accident.”
