Chapter 2 - Three Months Missing
Isabel entered the mansion with the calm confidence of someone who believed every room belonged to her.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor. She carried a structured leather handbag in one hand and her sunglasses in the other. A faint fragrance followed her through the entrance hall.
Ernesto walked two steps behind her.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his late fifties, with silver hair, a carefully trimmed mustache, and the formal posture of a servant who had spent years studying wealthy families. He had worked for Alejandro’s father before becoming manager of the residence.
Alejandro had known him since childhood.
That history made what came next more painful.
Isabel’s gaze moved from Alejandro to Teresa, then to Mariana.
“What is happening?” she asked.
Mariana did not wait for permission.
“My mom hasn’t been paid.”
Isabel’s expression remained pleasant, but her eyes hardened.
“I’m sure there has been a misunderstanding.”
“There has,” Alejandro said. “Someone changed the employees’ banking information.”
Ernesto stopped walking.
Only for a second.
But Alejandro noticed.
Isabel placed her handbag on a side table.
“That sounds like an accounting problem.”
“The chief accountant says your authorization code was used.”
The staff near the kitchen lowered their heads. Teresa moved closer to Mariana, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.
Isabel gave a soft laugh.
“My authorization code is attached to dozens of household transactions. You know that.”
“I know it was attached to the missing payroll.”
“Then Daniel should correct it.”
“I asked him to investigate.”
Something shifted behind Isabel’s eyes.
“How much have you told him?”
“Enough.”
Ernesto cleared his throat.
“Sir, perhaps we should discuss this privately. There is no need to worry the staff.”
“They are already worried,” Mariana said. “They didn’t get paid.”
Ernesto turned toward her.
“Young lady, adults are speaking.”
Alejandro’s voice became sharp.
“She is speaking because the adults around her stayed silent.”
Ernesto immediately stepped back.
“I meant no disrespect.”
Alejandro faced him.
“Did you change Teresa’s bank information?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you authorize the change?”
“I sign many administrative forms. If the accounting office included a routine update, I may have approved it without realizing.”
“Eight employees had their information changed.”
Ernesto’s face stayed composed.
“That would suggest a system error.”
“Eight errors, all involving workers who are less likely to complain?”
“I cannot explain it.”
“Then you will remain here until someone can.”
Isabel crossed her arms.
“Alejandro, you’re turning a payroll mistake into a public trial.”
He looked at her.
“One of our employees is about to be evicted.”
“That is unfortunate, but we cannot be responsible for every personal financial decision made by the staff.”
Teresa flinched.
Mariana’s eyes flashed.
“My mom didn’t make a bad decision. She worked.”
The room fell silent again.
Isabel looked at Mariana as though she were an unpleasant stain on expensive fabric.
“Your mother should have handled this through the proper channels.”
“She did.”
Teresa whispered her daughter’s name, but Mariana continued.
“She asked Mr. Ernesto. He told her Mr. Alejandro knew.”
Isabel’s gaze moved toward Ernesto.
The look between them lasted less than a second.
But Alejandro saw it.
It was not confusion.
It was coordination.
He called for all employees to gather in the staff dining room.
Within fifteen minutes, twenty-three people stood or sat around the long wooden tables. Kitchen workers, cleaners, gardeners, drivers, maintenance workers, and security guards filled the room. Many appeared nervous. A few looked frightened enough to leave.
Alejandro stood at the front.
Isabel remained near the doorway. Ernesto stood beside her.
Mariana sat next to Teresa, her pink backpack resting between her shoes.
“I need everyone to listen carefully,” Alejandro began. “I have learned that some employees have not received wages or benefits that were officially approved. I want to know who has been affected.”
No one raised a hand.
Alejandro waited.
“I will not punish anyone for speaking.”
Still, silence.
Then Mariana stood.
“My mom didn’t get paid for three months.”
Teresa pulled gently at her sleeve, but Mariana remained upright.
Across the room, an elderly gardener slowly raised his hand.
“My medical reimbursement never arrived,” he said.
Another employee followed.
“My overtime was removed.”
A cook spoke next.
“My paycheck was short twice.”
A driver said his holiday bonus had disappeared.
A maintenance worker had been forced to pay for an injury treatment that should have been covered.
One by one, hands rose around the room.
Alejandro counted thirteen.
More than half the staff had lost money.
“How long has this been happening?” he asked.
“For some of us, almost a year,” the gardener answered.
Alejandro looked toward Ernesto.
“You knew?”
“Sir, many employees misunderstand deductions.”
“Thirteen people misunderstood?”
“They may be influenced by the excitement of the moment.”
Teresa finally stood.
“We understand when money is missing.”
Her voice shook, but she did not sit back down.
“We understand when our children go without food. We understand when the pharmacy refuses to give us medicine because we cannot pay. We understand when someone tells us not to complain because the family can replace us.”
Ernesto’s face tightened.
“I never threatened anyone.”
A security guard near the wall spoke.
“You said Mr. Montes wanted younger workers.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You told me my position would disappear if I kept asking about my overtime.”
Other employees began speaking at once.
Alejandro raised a hand.
The room quieted.
“Daniel is reviewing the records now. Until the investigation is complete, no employee will be dismissed, transferred, or disciplined. All missing wages will be paid immediately from my personal account.”
Several people stared at him in disbelief.
Teresa covered her mouth.
Mariana did not smile.
She asked, “Today?”
Alejandro looked at her.
“Yes. Today.”
He instructed his assistant to arrange emergency transfers. He also called Teresa’s landlord in front of the room.
Mr. Ramirez answered impatiently.
Alejandro identified himself.
The landlord’s tone changed at once.
“Mr. Montes, I didn’t realize—”
“You told Teresa you would change her locks.”
“She owes rent.”
“She will receive her wages tonight. I will personally guarantee the full payment.”
“Of course. There is no problem.”
“There was a problem when you believed she had no one powerful standing beside her.”
The landlord became silent.
“You will not enter her room, touch her belongings, or threaten her child. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Alejandro ended the call.
Teresa began to cry quietly.
Mariana reached for her hand.
The sight should have brought relief.
Instead, Alejandro felt ashamed.
The landlord had shown mercy only because a wealthy man had called. The world had not suddenly become fair. Teresa had simply been granted temporary protection by someone with more influence.
His phone rang.
Daniel.
Alejandro stepped into the hallway to answer.
“I traced the replacement accounts,” Daniel said. “They are connected to three shell companies.”
“Names?”
“Altura Domestic Consulting, Vela Services, and Benevolent Horizons Foundation.”
Alejandro recognized the last one.
“Benevolent Horizons is Isabel’s charity.”
“Yes.”
The foundation had been established four years earlier. Isabel used it to sponsor education programs, women’s shelters, and community clinics. Newspapers praised her generosity. She appeared on magazine covers beside children from poor neighborhoods.
“How much money went there?” Alejandro asked.
“Not all of it. Some transfers moved through the other companies first. But the total diversion from household accounts is approximately four hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
Alejandro gripped the phone.
“From employee wages?”
“Wages, benefits, vendor payments, insurance refunds, and emergency funds.”
“Who owns the shell companies?”
“One is registered to a former driver. Another to Ernesto’s cousin. The third belongs to a woman named Lucía Ferrer.”
Alejandro’s pulse changed.
He knew that name.
Lucía had once been Isabel’s personal assistant.
She had disappeared from their lives two years earlier after supposedly moving to Spain.
“Where is Lucía now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“There is more.”
Alejandro closed his eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Some funds from Benevolent Horizons were transferred to a private medical clinic. Large monthly payments.”
“For charitable treatments?”
“The patient reference is confidential, but the authorization initials are I.M.”
Isabel Montes.
“Can you identify the patient?”
“Not without further access.”
“Get it legally.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Alejandro, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Is your wife being treated for something?”
“No.”
“At least not that I know of.”
He ended the call and returned to the staff room.
Isabel was gone.
So was Ernesto.
Alejandro looked toward the entrance hall.
“Where did they go?”
One of the drivers answered.
“Mrs. Montes said she felt unwell. Don Ernesto drove her to an appointment.”
“Which car?”
“The silver sedan.”
Alejandro pulled out his phone and called the security gate.
“Do not let the sedan leave.”
A guard answered nervously.
“It already passed through, sir.”
“When?”
“About three minutes ago.”
Alejandro hurried toward the front door.
Outside, the driveway was empty.
He opened the residence tracking application. All family vehicles carried security devices.
The silver sedan appeared on the map.
It was moving south.
Not toward Isabel’s doctor.
Not toward any hospital Alejandro knew.
The car was heading toward the old district near San Ángel.
Mariana had followed him outside.
“Is your wife running away?” she asked.
Alejandro looked down at her.
“I don’t know.”
“My mom says people only run when they’re afraid of what someone will find.”
Teresa reached the doorway.
“Mariana, stop bothering him.”
“She isn’t bothering me,” Alejandro said.
His phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
In the image, Isabel stood outside a small private clinic. Beside her was Ernesto.
Between them was a teenage boy Alejandro had never seen.
The boy was about fourteen, tall and thin, with dark hair and a serious expression.
At first, Alejandro did not understand why the photograph had been sent.
Then he zoomed in.
The boy had his eyes.
The same shape.
The same unusual green-brown color inherited from Alejandro’s mother.
Below the photograph was a single sentence.
Ask your wife whose son he is.
Alejandro stared at the message until the screen blurred.
Behind him, the mansion remained filled with employees waiting for answers about stolen wages.
But the money was no longer the only secret inside the house.
May you like
His wife had been financing a private clinic with diverted funds.
And someone believed she was hiding a child who looked disturbingly like him.
