Chapter 12 - Beatriz Talks
Beatriz requested to speak with me.
Her lawyer hated the idea.
So did Javier.
I agreed.
Not privately.
Police interview room.
Recorded.
Her lawyer present.
Mine present.
Beatriz looked smaller without the villa around her.
No silk robe.
No perfect lighting.
No terrace.
She wore a beige sweater.
Hair tied back.
No makeup.
For the first time since I met her, she looked ordinary.
That did not make her harmless.
She stared at me.
“You came.”
“You asked.”
She looked toward the cameras.
“I want a deal.”
“That’s not mine to give.”
“You can influence things.”
“I won’t.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you might say something useful.”
She laughed softly.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The man I married.”
“You didn’t marry me.”
Her eyes changed.
“No?”
“You entered my life as part of a plan.”
Silence.
Then she smiled.
“Clara talks too much.”
“Did Lucas send you?”
She leaned back.
“At first.”
The honesty surprised even her lawyer.
He touched her arm.
She ignored him.
“What did he promise?”
“Security.”
“Money?”
“Eventually.”
“How much?”
“Five million.”
“For marrying me?”
“For getting close.”
“To what?”
“Your schedule.”
“Documents?”
“Yes.”
“Isabella?”
Her face shifted.
Not remorse.
Discomfort.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I went cold.
“What wasn’t?”
“Her.”
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Beatriz looked down.
“Lucas said she would stay out of everything.”
“She was eight.”
“He said the trust was paperwork.”
“You made her drag garbage.”
Her face hardened.
“She hated me.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“She was afraid of you.”
“She challenged me.”
“She was a child.”
“She looked at me like I was trying to replace Elena.”
“Were you?”
Beatriz laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“For once, we agree.”
Her lawyer interrupted.
“Perhaps we should focus on financial matters.”
I ignored him.
“Why did you hurt her?”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
I stared.
“You withheld food.”
“She always ate.”
“You locked her in the utility room.”
“Not locked.”
“We have photographs.”
“She could have opened it.”
“Did she know that?”
Silence.
“You made her scrub until her hands blistered.”
“I was teaching discipline.”
I leaned back.
There it was.
People like Beatriz rarely see themselves as villains.
They create vocabulary.
Discipline.
Responsibility.
Structure.
Anything except cruelty.
“Why the garbage?”
“She broke a glass.”
I almost laughed.
“So you punished her with rotting trash?”
“She needed consequences.”
“You’re describing yourself.”
Her face tightened.
I changed direction.
“When did you begin sleeping with Mateo?”
Her lawyer objected.
Beatriz answered anyway.
“Seven months ago.”
“Did Lucas know?”
“No.”
“Why Mateo?”
“He understood the money.”
“Romantic.”
“He understood Lucas was lying to me.”
“About what?”
“My share.”
“What share?”
“Lucas never intended to pay.”
“So you and Mateo changed the plan.”
“Yes.”
Her lawyer whispered,
“Beatriz.”
She shook him off.
It was happening now.
Self-preservation.
The fastest way to break a conspiracy is often to make every participant believe everyone else has already talked.
I said,
“Mateo told us everything.”
Lie.
Her face changed.
“What did he say?”
I shrugged.
“Enough.”
She looked toward her lawyer.
Then back.
“Mateo said nobody would get hurt.”
My pulse slowed.
“What was supposed to happen in Zurich?”
She swallowed.
“You would attend the investor dinner.”
“And?”
“You’d sign documents.”
“Then?”
“Go back to the hotel.”
“Then?”
Silence.
“Beatriz.”
Her eyes filled.
This time maybe genuinely.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Lie.”
“I swear.”
“You were the emergency medical proxy.”
“Only because Lucas wanted it.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“Lucas wanted the company.”
“You wanted access to my personal holdings.”
Silence.
“Mateo wanted liquidity.”
Her eyes moved.
“And someone needed me medically incapacitated.”
She whispered,
“It was supposed to look natural.”
The room became completely still.
Her lawyer put both hands on the table.
“My client should stop.”
Too late.
I stared at her.
“What does natural mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you planning to kill me?”
“No!”
Her answer was immediate.
“I never agreed to that.”
“Did someone suggest it?”
Silence.
“Did Mateo?”
She looked down.
That was enough.
“What did he say?”
“He joked.”
“About?”
“You.”
“Doing what?”
“He said sometimes healthy men don’t wake up after stressful trips.”
My stomach turned.
“Did Lucas hear this?”
“No.”
“Did Hugo?”
“No.”
“Did you object?”
She didn’t answer.
I sat back.
That silence told me everything I needed to know about our marriage.
“Who was arriving from Zurich?”
“A banker.”
“Name?”
“Stefan Keller.”
“What was he bringing?”
“Original transfer papers.”
“For Mirador?”
“Yes.”
“And Isabella’s shares?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the money going?”
“Luxembourg.”
“Whose account?”
“Mateo’s structure.”
“Lucas knew?”
“Partially.”
Of course.
Every liar had a separate version.
“What was Lucas supposed to receive?”
“Control of Navarro Development.”
“And you?”
She looked at me.
“Twenty million.”
“From where?”
“Your insurance.”
There it was.
She had not merely known.
She had calculated.
“What about Isabella?”
“She was supposed to go to school in Switzerland.”
“Why?”
“To keep her away.”
“From whom?”
“You.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“So she couldn’t contradict the incapacity story.”
Everything fit.
The fake behavioral diagnosis.
The boarding school.
The abuse.
The isolation.
If I collapsed, Isabella would already be described as unstable and difficult.
If she said Beatriz was cruel, adults might dismiss her.
They had been destroying my daughter’s credibility before she was old enough to understand what credibility meant.
My voice became quiet.
“You didn’t punish Isabella because she misbehaved.”
Beatriz looked at me.
“You were training her to believe nobody would believe her.”
She said nothing.
“That was the point.”
Her eyes dropped.
I had my answer.
I stood.
“Daniel.”
I stopped.
Beatriz looked genuinely frightened now.
“Mateo is going to run.”
“Why?”
“He has another passport.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Destination?”
“Panama, maybe.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because if he leaves, everything becomes my fault.”
I stared.
Even now.
Selfish panic.
Not remorse.
Before leaving, I asked one last question.
“Did you ever love Isabella?”
Beatriz looked at me.
For several seconds, I thought she might lie.
Then she whispered,
“No.”
That hurt.
But not as much as what came next.
“She made me feel like I was living inside another woman’s house.”
I stared.
“It was another woman’s house.”
Beatriz’s face changed.
I continued.
“Elena chose the land.”
“The architect.”
“The garden.”
“The room Isabella sleeps in.”
“The trust.”
“The future you tried to steal.”
I opened the door.
“You weren’t haunted by Elena.”
“You were defeated by her.”
I left.
Outside, Javier was waiting.
He handed me his phone.
“What?”
“Mateo disappeared.”
My body tightened.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“Airport?”
“No.”
“Car?”
“Found abandoned.”
“Where?”
“Near your villa.”
I looked at him.
“Why would he go there?”
Javier swiped to a photograph.
The police had searched Mateo’s abandoned car.
Inside they found a floor plan of my villa.
One room was circled.
Isabella’s bedroom.
And beneath it, in Mateo’s handwriting, were three words.
Find the rabbit.
May you like
The stuffed rabbit Isabella had hidden behind her wardrobe.
The one she had carried to Sofia’s house.
