Chapter 9 - Victoria's Seven Minutes
Victoria held the recorder before I asked.
Black plastic.
Old-fashioned.
Rafael’s.
“I took it.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian told me I would be blamed.”
“So you stole evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
She flinched.
Good.
I was tired of protecting her feelings.
We sat in Rafael’s study.
Claudia stood near the window.
Bell locked the door.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then Rafael.
“Adrian, the money ends now.”
My pulse jumped.
Adrian’s voice.
“You should have stopped looking.”
“I found her.”
Silence.
Then Adrian:
“Who?”
Rafael laughed.
“You know who.”
A chair scraped.
Adrian’s voice lowered.
“You should have stopped looking for her.”
Rafael:
“She is Isabel’s blood.”
Then Adrian:
“Then Lucia Alvarez becomes a problem.”
Claudia covered her mouth.
Victoria stared at the floor.
I stopped the recording.
“When was this?”
“The week before Rafael died,” Bell said.
I looked at Victoria.
“And you had this?”
“Yes.”
“For four months.”
“Yes.”
“You let me serve dinner in this house while knowing Adrian called me a problem.”
Her face broke.
“I did not know he meant violence.”
“Rafael died.”
“Yes.”
“Mara disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you still did nothing.”
She stood.
“I was trying to protect Claudia.”
Claudia turned.
“No.”
Victoria froze.
Claudia’s voice shook.
“Don’t use me.”
“A man like your father—”
“You protected him.”
Victoria sat.
That hurt her more than anything I could have said.
Bell resumed the recorder.
Another file.
Rafael alone.
“If Victoria finds this, she will hide it.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Rafael continued.
“She has always confused silence with protection.”
I looked at her.
He knew.
He knew everyone.
The next recording:
“Adrian has moved thirty-eight million from Isabel’s trust.”
Then account numbers.
Dates.
Direct proof.
Bell exhaled.
“That is enough for criminal referral.”
The recorder clicked.
One final message.
“If Lucia reaches this, she must find Evelyn.”
My chest tightened.
Evelyn.
Rafael’s voice dropped.
“Adrian stole from Isabel.”
Pause.
“But Adrian is not the person who erased her.”
Victoria whispered, “No.”
Rafael continued.
“Ask Evelyn why she signed the death certificate.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Victoria.
“What death certificate?”
She looked older again.
Then Evelyn’s cane tapped once outside the locked door.
She had been listening.
“Mine,” she said.
We opened it.
Evelyn stood there.
White-faced.
No denial.
I asked:
“Did you sign Isabel’s death certificate?”
She nodded.
“When?”
Her lips trembled.
“Seventeen years before she actually died.”
May you like
CUT.
