Chapter 3 - Norte Alto Consultores
Don Ernesto sat down as though we were having an ordinary business meeting.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
He placed his cane against the chair.
“You've been looking through financial records.”
“My financial records.”
He sighed.
“Mariana, you're emotional.”
“I am a surgeon, not a child.”
Álvaro stood beside the window.
He looked trapped.
I turned to him.
“Did you help him create this company?”
He said nothing.
Don Ernesto answered for him.
“We created it to solve a temporary problem.”
“What problem?”
“Our family business.”
“I don't care about your family business.”
“You should.”
He leaned forward.
“Because your money has kept it alive.”
My mouth went dry.
“How much?”
Neither answered.
“How much of my money?”
Don Ernesto looked at Álvaro.
Álvaro finally whispered:
“About 4.8 million pesos.”
I stared at him.
Four point eight million.
For several seconds, I couldn't process the number.
I thought of every extra hospital shift.
Every weekend I had sacrificed.
Every night I had come home too tired to eat.
I thought about paying Álvaro's office rent.
His truck.
His mother's treatment.
His business expenses.
I had thought I was helping my husband build a future.
Instead, I had been financing a secret.
“You stole from me.”
Álvaro stepped forward.
“I was going to repay you.”
“When?”
“When the company recovered.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Which company?”
Don Ernesto interrupted.
“Don't make this personal.”
I turned toward him.
“You put a company in my name.”
“Because your credit was clean.”
“That is identity fraud.”
His expression hardened.
“Watch your words.”
“No.”
For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
Not guilt.
Fear.
That told me there was more.
I picked up my folder.
“I am going to the police.”
Álvaro grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
I pulled away.
“You don't get to tell me what to do anymore.”
His face crumpled.
“Mariana, please.”
“Please what?”
“If you report it, everyone goes down.”
“Everyone?”
I stared at him.
“Who is everyone?”
Silence.
Don Ernesto looked toward the window.
Then he said quietly:
“Your name isn't the only name on those documents.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
He stood.
“Ask your husband.”
Then he walked toward the door.
I stepped in front of him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You don't get to leave until you tell me what you did.”
His expression changed.
“You still don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“The company wasn't created to hide money.”
“Then why?”
His answer was barely audible.
“To hide a debt.”
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
“What debt?”
He opened the door.
Before leaving, he said:
“The kind that doesn't disappear when the money does.”
Then he walked away.
Álvaro remained behind.
I turned to him.
“What debt?”
He stared at the floor.
“Dad borrowed money.”
“From whom?”
He didn't answer.
“Álvaro.”
Finally, he looked at me.
“People who don't accept failure.”
A cold silence settled over the office.
I understood then that this wasn't just about money.
Someone had been demanding repayment.
Someone dangerous enough to frighten Don Ernesto.
And somehow, my name had been placed between them.
I reached for my phone.
Álvaro's face went pale.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
He moved toward me.
“No.”
I stepped back.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Doctor Salgado?”
I said nothing.
“We know where you work.”
My blood ran cold.
The voice continued.
May you like
“And we know who you operated on last night.”
Then the call ended.
