Chapter 9 - ROSA’S PHONE
Rosa had saved everything because she was afraid Patricia would blame her for Sophie’s condition.
There were twenty-three photographs.
Dates.
Times.
Screenshots.
Three audio recordings.
One video.
In the video, Sophie sat at the kitchen table while Patricia removed a bowl from in front of her.
“You already ate.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“Can I have banana?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Stop begging.”
Sophie began crying.
Patricia turned toward Rosa.
“If you give her anything, don’t come back tomorrow.”
The clip ended.
I watched it once.
Rebecca watched it twice.
Dr. Reyes refused to let Sophie see it.
The court evaluator received a copy.
For the first time, Patricia stopped claiming the balcony was an isolated discipline issue.
Her attorney changed language.
Now they argued that Patricia had been following “a structured dietary routine.”
No doctor had prescribed one.
No nutritionist.
No parent.
Just Patricia.
Then Rosa showed us the audio.
In one recording, Patricia complained to Chloe:
“Elena thinks because she pays she gets to decide everything.”
Chloe laughed.
Another recording:
“If Elena takes the London job, Sophie stays with us. Ethan already spoke to someone.”
And the third:
“Once the papers are signed, it won’t matter what Elena wants.”
Rebecca replayed that sentence.
“What papers?”
Rosa didn’t know.
But I did.
The family holding transfer.
The postnuptial agreement Ethan hated.
Maybe both.
The custody evaluator interviewed Ethan separately.
His story began collapsing.
He claimed he did not know Patricia restricted food.
Then he was shown Rosa’s video.
He changed his answer.
He said Patricia believed Sophie had digestive issues.
Dr. Ortiz confirmed Sophie had none.
He said I approved discipline.
Then the fake-message metadata came back.
The screenshots had been generated from a synchronized tablet.
The tablet was associated with our home network.
Several were created while I was traveling and my primary phone was logged elsewhere.
The evidence did not yet prove who typed them.
But it proved the screenshots were not what Ethan claimed.
Then something happened that even Rebecca had not predicted.
The lender investigating the forged guarantee contacted us.
Their internal records included security footage from the day Ethan submitted the documents.
He was not alone.
Lauren Pierce sat beside him.
My assistant.
The woman who had worked with me for six years.
She had brought copies of my identification.
Employment verification.
Signature samples.
Ethan did not break into my company.
Lauren opened the door.
The police investigation became formal.
Lauren surrendered through an attorney four days later.
She wanted a deal.
And people who want deals talk.
Her statement was ugly.
Ethan had approached her eight months earlier.
He told her our marriage was ending.
He claimed I was hiding assets.
He told her I would fire her once I moved to London.
Then he offered money.
At first, she only gave him travel schedules.
Then documents.
Then login access.
Then signature files.
Finally, she approved the Northstar payment.
“Why?” I asked after Rebecca summarized the interview.
“Money.”
“That’s it?”
“Mostly.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Six years for 150,000 pesos.”
Rebecca said nothing.
But Lauren also gave investigators something useful.
Text messages.
Ethan complaining about Patricia.
That surprised me.
In one, he wrote:
My mother is becoming impossible. Once Elena signs, I’ll move everyone to Acapulco and control the accounts myself.
Patricia believed she and Ethan were partners.
Ethan had been planning to betray her too.
I should have felt satisfaction.
Instead I felt tired.
Greed had eaten through every relationship in that apartment.
Mother.
Son.
Sister.
Husband.
Employee.
Everyone was using everyone.
Then Marcus found a final transfer.
A large payment from Northstar.
Not to Lauren.
Not to Acapulco.
To an attorney I did not recognize.
Rebecca did.
Her expression hardened.
“Family law.”
“For the custody case?”
“No.”
She checked the date.
“This payment was made nine months ago.”
My stomach tightened.
Months before the balcony.
Months before the divorce.
Months before I knew we were fighting.
Ethan had hired a custody strategist nearly a year before I filed.
And suddenly one terrifying question mattered more than all the others.
May you like
If Ethan had been preparing to take Sophie from me for nearly a year—
what exactly had he been planning to do once he succeeded?
