Chapter 10 - My Mother
My mother, Victoria Navarro, had lived in Geneva for fourteen years.
Officially.
Unofficially, she lived wherever there was enough distance between herself and the rest of us.
She had left Spain after my father’s death.
Not because she was grieving.
Because she had finally become free.
My parents had one of those marriages wealthy families call complicated because the truthful words are uglier.
Cold.
Competitive.
Strategic.
Lucas was my mother’s favorite.
I was my father’s.
Neither of us had benefited from the arrangement.
I had not spoken to Victoria in eleven months.
Lucas spoke to her weekly.
That suddenly mattered.
I called.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Daniel.”
Her voice had not changed.
Elegant.
Detached.
“You sound terrible.”
“Were you expecting me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Do you know Beatriz?”
“No.”
Lie.
I knew immediately.
Not from evidence.
From rhythm.
My mother answered too quickly when lying.
She had done it since I was a child.
“I’ll ask again.”
Her tone cooled.
“I said no.”
“Did you know Elena’s trust protected Isabella’s assets after five years?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your wife was excessively cautious.”
My body went cold.
“You knew.”
“Everyone knew Elena worried about money.”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Almost nobody knew the five-year clause.”
Victoria said nothing.
“How did you know?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember everything.”
“Daniel, what is this about?”
“Lucas.”
A longer pause.
“What has he done?”
“You already know.”
“I don’t.”
“Do you know Mateo accessed Elena’s deposit box?”
“No.”
“Do you know Lucas tried to remove me from the company?”
“No.”
“Do you know Beatriz was abusing Isabella?”
My mother stopped breathing.
That reaction sounded real.
“What?”
There it was.
Something she didn’t know.
I leaned against the wall.
“She had my daughter dragging garbage until her hands blistered.”
Silence.
Then Victoria said softly,
“Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“Then whatever else you think about me, Daniel, believe this: I did not know that.”
I believed her.
Which made everything harder.
“Do you know someone using the initial M?”
Nothing.
“Mother.”
“Many people have names beginning with M.”
“Elena wrote about M.”
Silence.
“M warned her about Lucas.”
Victoria exhaled.
“I need to go.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“Are you M?”
The line remained silent.
Then my mother said,
“Come to Geneva.”
“Answer me.”
“Not on the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because if Lucas is doing what you think he’s doing, then the phones stopped being safe years ago.”
The call ended.
I flew to Geneva with Javier.
Victoria’s apartment overlooked the lake.
Minimalist.
White.
Beautiful.
Emotionless.
Exactly like her.
She opened the door wearing a navy dress and pearl earrings.
Seventy-two years old.
Still intimidating.
She looked at me.
Then hugged me.
That alone told me how serious this was.
My mother did not hug unexpectedly.
“Where is Isabella?”
“With Sofia.”
“Good.”
We sat.
I placed the anonymous messages on the table.
Victoria read them.
Her face remained unreadable.
“Are you M?”
“No.”
“Did you communicate with Elena secretly?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
She looked toward the window.
“Your father’s accountant.”
I frowned.
“Martin?”
“Marianne.”
I stared.
Marianne Kessler.
My father’s personal financial controller.
She had worked for the family for almost thirty years.
After my father died, she retired.
Or so I believed.
“Why would Marianne communicate with Elena?”
“Because she discovered Lucas stealing.”
“When?”
“Long before Elena became sick.”
“How long?”
“Almost ten years ago.”
I stood.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Your father knew.”
The room changed.
“He knew Lucas was stealing?”
“Yes.”
“And did nothing?”
“He did something.”
“What?”
“He covered it.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Lucas was his son.”
“So was I.”
“Yes.”
The answer was simple.
Brutal.
My father had chosen family reputation over accountability.
The decision had grown into everything happening now.
Victoria continued.
“Lucas lost millions through leveraged investments.”
“How many?”
“At first six.”
“At first?”
“Eventually closer to twenty.”
My stomach tightened.
“He borrowed against family entities?”
“Yes.”
“Illegal transfers?”
“Yes.”
“Mateo helped?”
“Later.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
“Where does Marianne fit?”
“She discovered it.”
“And Elena?”
“Marianne trusted her.”
“Why not me?”
Victoria almost smiled.
“Because you would have confronted Lucas.”
Everyone knew me better than I knew myself.
“What happened when Elena died?”
“Marianne continued watching.”
“Why?”
“For Isabella.”
“Then why send messages to Beatriz?”
“She didn’t.”
I showed Victoria the phone records.
She read them again.
Then shook her head.
“That doesn’t sound like Marianne.”
“How would you know?”
“Because Marianne never called you Daniel.”
“What did she call me?”
“Dani.”
Only family and people who knew me as a child used that name.
My phone vibrated.
Sofia.
I answered.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
My body tightened.
“What happened?”
“Someone sent Isabella a package.”
“What package?”
“No return address.”
“Did she open it?”
“I did.”
“What was inside?”
Sofia was quiet.
Then:
“A photograph of Elena.”
My heart changed.
“What kind?”
“Elena in the hospital.”
“Anything else?”
“A note.”
“What does it say?”
Sofia read it.
Your mother knew the truth. Ask your father why he didn’t listen.
I closed my eyes.
That cruelty was designed for Isabella.
Not me.
“Don’t let her see it.”
“She already saw the photograph.”
“Not the note.”
“Okay.”
I looked at Victoria.
“Who would send that?”
Her face had gone pale.
Then she whispered a name.
“Marianne.”
I stared.
“You just said she was helping Elena.”
“She was.”
“Then why hurt Isabella?”
Victoria shook her head.
“She wouldn’t.”
“Unless she changed.”
“No.”
“Unless somebody is using her identity.”
Victoria looked at me.
Then her eyes widened.
“Lucas.”
“No.”
“Think.”
She stood.
“Marianne controlled the evidence against him.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Three years ago.”
“Alive?”
Victoria stared at me.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The kind I’m asking now.”
She went to her desk.
Opened a drawer.
Removed an old address book.
Found a number.
Called.
Disconnected.
Then another.
Disconnected.
Her hands began to shake.
I had never seen that before.
“Mother.”
“She would never disappear without telling me.”
My stomach tightened.
“When did she retire?”
“After your wedding.”
The timing was impossible to ignore.
My wedding to Beatriz.
The woman Lucas already knew.
I looked at Javier.
“Find Marianne.”
He stepped into the hall.
Victoria sat slowly.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“After Elena died, Marianne told me she had hidden copies of the financial records.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Did Lucas know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mateo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Beatriz?”
Victoria shook her head.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“There was a woman.”
“Who?”
“Marianne said someone had been asking about Elena’s papers.”
“When?”
“Shortly before your wedding.”
My skin went cold.
“What woman?”
“She never told me the name.”
“Description?”
“Dark hair. Spanish. Early thirties.”
Beatriz.
My phone rang again.
Javier.
“That was fast.”
His voice sounded wrong.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Marianne Kessler is dead.”
I stopped.
“When?”
“Three years and two months ago.”
Two months after my wedding.
“How?”
“Car accident near Lausanne.”
I looked at Victoria.
She saw the answer on my face.
Her hand went to her mouth.
Javier continued.
“But Daniel…”
“What?”
“There’s a problem.”
I waited.
“Someone has been using Marianne’s identity since then.”
The anonymous number.
The messages.
The surveillance.
May you like
Someone wanted me to believe a dead woman was helping.
And that meant the real mastermind still believed I was looking in the wrong direction.
