Chapter 7 - The Recording Teresa Left Behind
The phone kept ringing beneath the warehouse floor.
Neither of us moved.
It rang once.
Stopped.
Then rang again.
I looked at Mateo.
“You said you already searched this place.”
“I did.”
“You said there was nothing underneath.”
“I said I looked.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
His jaw tightened.
The phone rang a third time.
I stepped toward the floor panel.
Mateo caught my arm.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever put that phone there wanted someone to find it.”
“That doesn't mean we shouldn't.”
“It might.”
I pulled my arm free.
“My grandmother left me instructions.”
“She also told you not to trust me.”
“I remember.”
He looked away.
I crouched beside the panel.
There was a narrow seam running through the concrete.
I ran my fingers across it.
Cold air came through.
“There is a room underneath.”
Mateo nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“I found the entrance three years ago.”
I looked up.
“Three years.”
“Yes.”
“The same three years my grandmother wanted me to investigate.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
He didn't answer.
“Mateo.”
He sighed.
“I went down there once.”
“And?”
“I found nothing.”
“Then why is there a phone?”
“I don't know.”
I pulled the panel upward.
It was heavier than it looked.
Beneath it was a metal staircase descending into darkness.
A faint light flickered somewhere below.
My stomach tightened.
“There's electricity.”
“There shouldn't be.”
I took out my flashlight.
Mateo went first.
I followed.
The air became colder with every step.
At the bottom was a narrow concrete corridor.
The phone was still ringing.
We followed the sound.
It led to a steel door.
There was no handle.
Only a keypad.
The phone stopped.
A message appeared on the small screen.
ENTER THE DATE TERESA CHANGED HER WILL.
I looked at Mateo.
“Do you know?”
“Three days before she died.”
I entered the date.
The keypad flashed red.
WRONG.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I thought about the photograph.
August fourteenth.
The forged medical report.
The day everything had supposedly happened.
I entered August 14.
Green light.
The door unlocked.
I pushed it open.
The room beyond was larger than I expected.
It looked like an archive.
Shelves covered every wall.
Boxes filled the floor.
There were hard drives, folders, old computers, envelopes, photographs, and dozens of labeled containers.
At the center stood a wooden desk.
On it was a cassette recorder.
Beside it was a note.
My name.
VALERIA.
I picked it up.
The paper smelled faintly of perfume.
My grandmother's perfume.
The note contained only one sentence.
Listen before you look.
I stared at the recorder.
Mateo stood behind me.
“Don't.”
I turned.
“You've said that a lot.”
“This isn't safe.”
“Neither was my grandmother's life.”
I pressed the button.
The machine clicked.
Static filled the room.
Then Teresa's voice.
“If you're hearing this, Valeria, you're finally where I needed you to be.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Her voice sounded older than I remembered.
Tired.
But steady.
“I know you will want answers immediately.”
I smiled despite myself.
“That sounds like you,” I whispered.
The recording continued.
“You will also want to blame someone.”
A pause.
“Don't.”
I looked at Mateo.
He remained completely still.
“People are rarely guilty of only one thing,” Teresa said. “And people who look innocent can be carrying the heaviest secrets.”
The tape clicked softly.
“Three years ago, I discovered that Sergio had been moving money from my company.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
“I confronted him.”
A second voice appeared.
My father's.
“Mom, you're misunderstanding the transfers.”
Teresa answered.
“I checked every account.”
“You don't understand corporate accounting.”
“I built the company.”
Silence.
Then my father said:
“You don't know what happens when you challenge powerful people.”
Teresa laughed quietly.
“You're threatening me now?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I am warning you.”
The recording stopped for several seconds.
Then Teresa spoke again.
“After that conversation, I hired someone to investigate.”
I looked at Mateo.
He lowered his eyes.
“I hired Mateo Salcedo.”
I turned toward him.
He didn't react.
“I did not trust him completely,” Teresa continued.
“That was my mistake.”
Mateo closed his eyes.
The recording went on.
“But he was the only person who had access to Sergio's private network.”
My heart pounded.
“Within six months, we discovered that money was being moved through several companies.”
A pause.
“One of them was M.S. Consulting.”
Mateo finally spoke.
“She knew.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“She knew I wasn't stealing the money.”
The recording continued.
“The company belonged to Mateo.”
My grandmother's voice softened.
“But he created it at my request.”
I stopped breathing.
I looked at Mateo.
“You created the company for her?”
“Yes.”
“To recover the money?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everyone make it look like you stole it?”
He didn't answer.
The recording did.
“Because Sergio discovered what we were doing.”
My grandmother continued.
“He threatened Mateo.”
Then a different voice.
My father's.
“You think you can hide behind that man?”
Teresa replied:
“He's more loyal than you.”
“You'll regret trusting him.”
“I regret trusting you.”
The tape crackled.
Then Teresa spoke alone.
“The investigation became dangerous after that.”
A photograph slipped from the desk.
I picked it up.
It showed my father meeting someone outside a restaurant.
The man beside him was Dr. Ricardo Mena.
I turned it over.
A date.
Three years earlier.
The exact month everything had begun.
I looked back at the recorder.
Teresa's voice continued.
“Dr. Mena was paid to alter records.”
My hands went cold.
“He changed medical files.”
The recording paused.
“Not mine.”
I stared at the machine.
“Someone else's.”
Mateo stepped closer.
“Keep listening.”
Teresa continued.
“The medical records were altered because someone was already preparing for a future legal battle.”
My heart raced.
“The plan was simple.”
A pause.
“Make me look mentally incompetent.”
My stomach twisted.
“Then wait.”
Another pause.
“Wait until I died.”
The tape clicked.
I covered my mouth.
“They planned to challenge my will before I even wrote it.”
My father's voice returned.
“Mom, you can't keep this forever.”
Teresa answered:
“I don't need forever.”
“You think Valeria will protect you?”
“She doesn't need to protect me.”
“She doesn't even know what you do.”
Teresa laughed.
“She knows enough.”
My father's voice became angry.
“You kept her out of this.”
“Yes.”
“You're using her.”
“No.”
“Then why leave everything to her?”
“Because she can see what you tried to hide.”
The recording stopped.
I stared at the machine.
My grandmother had known exactly what I did.
She had known I could analyze documents.
She had known I could trace financial fraud.
And she had deliberately kept me away from the investigation until she was gone.
I looked at Mateo.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Teresa ordered me not to.”
“She ordered you to keep me ignorant?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed you'd be safer.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Safe?”
He said nothing.
I walked toward the shelves.
There were boxes labeled with years.
Then one box had no date.
Just one word.
VALERIA.
I opened it.
Inside were photographs of me.
At work.
Leaving court buildings.
Entering offices.
Getting into my car.
I froze.
Someone had been following me.
For years.
There were copies of my professional certifications.
My employment contracts.
Court cases I had worked on.
Even photographs of my apartment.
My breathing became shallow.
“Who took these?”
Mateo came closer.
“I don't know.”
“That's a lie.”
“I didn't take them.”
“But you knew about them.”
He looked at the photographs.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
I turned toward him.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“Teresa wouldn't allow it.”
“She was protecting me?”
“Yes.”
“By letting someone photograph my life?”
Mateo looked ashamed.
“We were trying to identify who was behind it.”
I pulled another photograph from the box.
This one showed my mother standing outside a building.
The date was three years earlier.
August 14.
I looked at Mateo.
“She was involved.”
“She was investigating too.”
“For Grandma?”
“Yes.”
I found another photograph.
My mother.
My father.
Mateo.
Dr. Mena.
All four standing together.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
The meeting that changed everything.
I flipped it over again.
Something else was written underneath.
One of them betrayed Teresa that night.
My heart raced.
“Who?”
Mateo shook his head.
“I never found out.”
“You're telling me you spent three years investigating this and you don't know?”
“I know who had the opportunity.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I felt as if the floor had moved.
“No.”
“She had access to Teresa's documents.”
“So did my father.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Mena.”
“Yes.”
“Then why my mother?”
“Because she disappeared for six hours after that meeting.”
I stared at him.
“What happened during those six hours?”
“I don't know.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
I searched through the box.
There was a small envelope at the bottom.
Inside was a handwritten statement.
My mother's signature.
I read the first line.
I did what Teresa asked me to do.
The second line made my heart stop.
I gave Sergio the document, but I never knew he would use it against her.
I looked up.
“What document?”
Mateo's face changed.
“I've never seen that.”
I read further.
The document was supposed to expose Sergio's fraud.
Then:
Instead, he used it to create the false medical record.
I stared at the page.
My mother had unknowingly helped my father.
But there was another sentence.
I kept the original because Teresa told me to.
I turned the page.
Nothing.
The statement ended there.
“No,” I whispered.
“What?”
“There's a page missing.”
Mateo looked at the envelope.
He was right.
The paper had been torn from the middle.
I searched the desk.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a small digital recorder beneath the drawer.
I picked it up.
There was one file.
No title.
I pressed play.
My mother's voice filled the room.
“I didn't know he would hurt her.”
A man's voice answered.
“You should have.”
My blood ran cold.
It was my father.
My mother said:
“Where is the original?”
My father answered:
“Teresa will never see it.”
“She knows.”
“Then she knows too much.”
My mother began crying.
“What are you going to do?”
My father's voice became quiet.
“I'm going to make sure Valeria gets everything.”
Silence.
My mother's voice cracked.
“Why?”
“Because then she'll become the target.”
The recording stopped.
I couldn't breathe.
My father had wanted me to inherit everything.
Not because he loved me.
Because he wanted me to become the person everyone would blame.
I turned toward Mateo.
“That's why they sued me.”
He nodded slowly.
“They needed you to look guilty.”
“And the forged letter?”
“To make the story believable.”
“And the medical report?”
“To make Teresa look incompetent.”
“And the eight million?”
“To create a motive.”
Everything had been designed.
Every piece.
Every document.
Every lie.
I looked at the final box.
It had no label.
Only a date.
AUGUST 14.
I opened it.
Inside was one envelope.
The seal was broken.
There was a photograph.
A bank receipt.
A medical report.
And a handwritten note from Teresa.
I unfolded it.
The first sentence read:
Valeria, if you have reached this box, then you already know your father wanted you to inherit the money.
I swallowed.
The next sentence was worse.
But there is one thing you still don't know about the night I was poisoned.
The warehouse lights suddenly went out.
Mateo grabbed my arm.
“Don't move.”
Somewhere outside the archive room, a metal door slammed.
Then footsteps entered the underground corridor.
One.
Two.
Three.
Someone stopped directly outside our door.
A key turned slowly in the lock.
Mateo whispered, “That's impossible.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He stared at the door.
“Because only one person has that key.”
The lock clicked.
May you like
And my mother's voice came from the other side.
“Valeria, open the door.”
