Chapter 3 - The Man Behind the Deal
“Did she find the box?” Teresa's face drained of color. She looked at me and lied without hesitation: “No. She hasn't found anything.” But she didn't know I was standing close enough to hear every word.
I watched my mother's expression change.
She had spent years controlling every room she entered.
That day, she looked frightened.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“No one.”
“You just said my name.”
“You're imagining things.”
I stepped closer.
“You were asked whether I found something.”
She looked toward the study.
That was enough.
She knew about the box.
She knew about my grandmother's documents.
And Julián knew I was investigating.
“Mom,” I said quietly, “what did you do?”
She slapped me.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
Neither of us moved.
Then she whispered:
“You have no idea what you're touching.”
I had heard threats before.
But this wasn't a threat.
It was a warning.
She left.
I locked the door behind her and immediately called my company's head of security.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He had worked with me for four years.
“I need a discreet investigation,” I told him.
“Into?”
“Arista Capital.”
There was a pause.
“That's serious.”
“I know.”
“And your family?”
“Especially my family.”
That afternoon, Marcus found something.
Julián Ordóñez had been connected to several property acquisitions around Lake Chapala.
Most had been ordinary.
One wasn't.
A shell company had purchased neighboring properties around Casa del Fresno.
Then another.
Then another.
The final piece was a narrow parcel connecting the entire area to a planned luxury development.
Casa del Fresno was the missing piece.
Without my property, the development couldn't proceed as planned.
My grandmother hadn't been stubborn.
She had been blocking a much larger deal.
That explained why Julián wanted the house.
It didn't explain why my mother had helped him.
I called Teresa.
She refused to answer.
I called Diego.
He answered immediately.
“You ruined my life,” he said.
“You posted the video.”
“You knew what would happen.”
“I didn't make you post it.”
He cursed.
Then I asked:
“Did Mom ever mention Julián?”
Silence.
“Diego.”
“She said he could make us rich.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
Another silence.
“Ten million,” he finally whispered.
My stomach dropped.
“Ten million pesos?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“She said all you had to do was sign.”
I closed my eyes.
“Sign what?”
“I don't know.”
He hung up.
I sat in the study for several minutes.
Then I opened the third folder.
Inside was a copy of an agreement.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
Except I had never signed it.
The signature looked almost perfect.
Almost.
But I knew my own handwriting.
Someone had forged it.
The agreement transferred control of Casa del Fresno to a development company.
And the date was six months before my grandmother died.
I photographed every page.
Then I noticed something else.
The document had been notarized.
The notary's name was familiar.
He had notarized several contracts for Nexo Cero.
I called him.
He denied everything.
Then he hung up.
Ten minutes later, Marcus called.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The notary disappeared.”
I stared at the document.
“How long?”
“Since this morning.”
“Can you locate him?”
“Not yet.”
I looked at the forged signature.
Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to take my grandmother's house.
But the deeper I looked, the more disturbing it became.
This wasn't just about property.
It involved my company.
My family.
My grandmother.
And possibly a criminal network operating through legitimate businesses.
That night, I returned to the study.
I placed every document on the desk.
The old photograph.
The trust agreement.
The payments to Teresa.
The forged contract.
The medical report.
Then I noticed a faint pencil mark beneath the photograph.
A number.
17.
I searched the room.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something from childhood.
My grandmother had a locked cabinet in the cellar.
She had always called it “the seventeenth drawer.”
I went downstairs.
The cabinet was still there.
Seventeen drawers.
The seventeenth was locked.
I tried my grandmother's keys.
Nothing.
I called Marcus.
Before he could answer, the cellar lights went out.
I heard breathing behind me.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Valeria.”
May you like
I turned.
And someone stepped out of the darkness holding a gun...
