PART 2 — THE FILE
I stared at the laptop screen.
The first spreadsheet contained hundreds of transactions.
At first glance, they looked ordinary.
Payments for cement.
Steel.
Transportation.
Construction equipment.
But Gonzalo had highlighted one column in red.
SUPPLIER REGISTRATION.
Every company listed there had the same problem.
They didn’t exist.
No offices.
No employees.
No tax records matching the amounts they had supposedly received.
I looked at Gonzalo.
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“The total I could verify is just over 120 million pesos.”
My father leaned toward the screen.
“Over how many years?”
“Almost nine.”
Silence filled the room.
Nine years.
That meant the fraud hadn’t started recently.
It had been happening while our families celebrated birthdays together, attended weddings, exchanged Christmas gifts, and called each other friends.
My grandfather slowly removed his glasses.
“Who authorized these payments?”
Gonzalo opened another file.
That’s when I saw my father’s signature.
Again.
And again.
And again.
My heart sank.
“Grandpa…”
He raised one hand.
“Don’t assume what you’re seeing.”
Gonzalo nodded.
“That’s the strange part. The signatures appear genuine, but the authorization codes were generated from a computer that wasn’t registered to your father’s office.”
My father stared at him.
“Whose computer?”
Gonzalo turned the laptop around.
A name appeared in the audit log.
Fernando Navarro.
Rodrigo’s father.
The same man who had attacked Beatriz hours earlier.
The same man whose family had just watched Rodrigo hit me.
Suddenly, the two parts of my life didn’t feel separate anymore.
The violence.
The business.
The secrecy.
They were connected.
Then Gonzalo opened another document.
“This is worse.”
It was an email exchange between Fernando and someone using a private address.
The subject line read:
SERRANO ACQUISITION — FINAL STAGE
My grandfather’s expression changed immediately.
“What acquisition?”
Gonzalo zoomed in.
There were documents showing that Fernando had been quietly purchasing debt connected to several companies owned by our family.
My father stood up.
“He wasn’t stealing money from us just to keep it.”
“No,” Gonzalo said.
“He was using the money to buy pieces of your own business.”
Nobody spoke.
Then I noticed something at the bottom of the document.
A date.
Three weeks from now.
And beside it:
TRANSFER OF CONTROL.
My father looked at me.
“They were preparing to take control of the company.”
I felt sick.
“How?”
Gonzalo opened another folder.
“There are forged board resolutions, altered shareholder records, and documents suggesting Rodrigo was supposed to become the legal representative of several subsidiaries.”
Rodrigo.
My husband.
The man who had slapped me hours earlier.
The man whose family had apparently spent years positioning him to inherit control over assets that weren’t theirs.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
A woman’s trembling voice spoke.
“Valeria?”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Beatriz.”
My mother-in-law.
I looked toward the hospital room.
“Are you okay?”
There was silence.
Then she whispered:
“I need you to listen before Fernando finds out.”
My grandfather motioned for everyone to remain quiet.
Beatriz continued.
“Your husband wasn’t supposed to marry you because Fernando wanted him to love you.”
My stomach tightened.
“He married you because of your family’s company.”
I closed my eyes.
“And the wedding?”
“It was supposed to make the connection permanent.”
My voice became barely audible.
“What are you saying?”
Beatriz started crying.
“I found the documents months ago. Fernando knew. Rodrigo knew.”
“Rodrigo knew?”
“Yes.”
The room went completely silent.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your father-in-law wasn’t the only person involved.”
I looked at my father.
“Who else?”
Beatriz hesitated.
Then she whispered a name.
Someone I had trusted for years.
Someone sitting in the same room with me.
I slowly turned toward the person she had named.
And the expression on his face told me one thing immediately.
He knew she was going to tell me.
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