Chapter 8 - The Envelope in My Father-in-Law’s Study
We turned around.
Esteban Rojas stood in the doorway.
He wasn't carrying a weapon.
He didn't need one.
His expression was calm.
“You followed the wrong trail,” he said.
I stepped forward.
“Who is Daniel?”
He stared at me.
Then smiled without warmth.
“You've been asking the right question.”
Sofía moved beside me.
“We have evidence.”
“No,” Esteban said. “You have fragments.”
He walked toward the boxes.
“Your father-in-law stole patient information.”
I looked at the files.
“He sold it?”
“Sometimes.”
“To whom?”
“Insurance companies. Private brokers. Anyone willing to pay.”
My stomach turned.
“And my identity?”
“You were the perfect cover.”
“Why?”
“Because people trusted doctors.”
He looked at me.
“And because your husband loved you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Loved me?”
“He believed protecting you was love.”
“That isn't love.”
Esteban didn't disagree.
He handed me an envelope.
“Take this.”
I opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
Daniel.
Alive.
Standing beside a woman.
The woman was younger.
But I recognized her.
Camila.
I looked at her.
“You knew Daniel.”
She nodded.
“He contacted me before he disappeared.”
“What did he say?”
“He said your father-in-law was going to frame him.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel had proof.”
“What proof?”
Camila looked at Esteban.
He said:
“The original ledger.”
I stared at him.
“What ledger?”
“The one showing every payment.”
“Where is it?”
He pointed toward the door.
“Your father-in-law has it.”
That night, I went to Don Ernesto's house.
Álvaro tried to stop me.
I walked past him.
I entered his father's study.
Don Ernesto was standing beside the desk.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I want the ledger.”
His face went pale.
“You spoke to Esteban.”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
“Mariana, if you open that ledger, there is no going back.”
“There was no going back when you forged my name.”
He looked down.
Then opened a drawer.
He took out a black envelope.
I reached for it.
He didn't release it.
“You don't understand what this will do.”
“I understand what silence has already done.”
He let go.
Inside was a ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Payments.
Hospitals.
Politicians.
Businesses.
Doctors.
Everything.
My hands trembled.
Then I saw one name repeated more than any other.
Álvaro Fuentes.
I looked at Don Ernesto.
“He knew.”
“He knows everything.”
I turned toward the door.
Álvaro was standing there.
His face was white.
“You found it.”
I held up the ledger.
“Why does your name appear on almost every page?”
He stepped inside.
“Because I signed the transfers.”
“Why?”
He looked at his father.
Then back at me.
“Because someone forced me.”
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“Daniel.”
I froze.
“Daniel is alive?”
Álvaro didn't answer.
And then the door behind him slowly opened.
A man stepped into the room.
Older.
Scarred.
But unmistakably familiar from the photograph.
Daniel.
He looked directly at me.
May you like
And said:
“I'm sorry, Mariana.”
