Chapter 4 - The Piano
I turned around.
No one was there.
Valeria grabbed my arm.
We got into the car.
I drove directly to my company.
I needed records.
I needed answers.
Most of all, I needed to know what Mariana had discovered before she died.
The old financial archive was stored in a secured room beneath the administrative offices.
Beatriz gave me access.
We spent hours searching.
Valeria sat beside me, sorting files.
At three in the morning, she found something.
“Alejandro.”
She held up an invoice.
The company had paid a construction supplier that didn't exist.
The amount was enormous.
I checked the date.
Six months before Mariana died.
Then another invoice appeared.
And another.
All approved by Mauricio.
My hands went cold.
“This is enough to destroy him.”
“Not yet,” Beatriz said.
We turned.
She stood in the doorway.
“You need to know something.”
“What?”
“Mariana asked me to watch Mauricio.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she told me not to unless she was dead.”
The room became silent.
Beatriz pulled an old notebook from her bag.
Inside were dates.
Phone calls.
Meetings.
Payments.
And one final entry.
The night of the accident.
8:42 PM — Mauricio leaves company.
9:17 PM — Mariana calls.
9:21 PM — phone disconnected.
9:48 PM — Mauricio returns.
I stared.
“What happened at 9:48?”
Beatriz looked at me.
“He told everyone he had been at home.”
I knew he had lied.
But there was still something missing.
The ledger.
The one Teresa mentioned.
I returned home before dawn.
The house felt different.
Not safer.
Worse.
As if someone had been watching me.
I walked into the music room.
Mariana’s piano was gone.
The space looked empty.
I found the receipt.
Mauricio had bought it.
But the receipt listed a delivery address.
His private warehouse.
I drove there.
The warehouse was locked.
I called Daniel.
Within twenty minutes, we opened the side entrance.
The piano stood beneath a sheet.
I pulled the cover away.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a small compartment beneath the keyboard.
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Alejandro,
If you are reading this, I wasn't able to tell you myself.
Do not trust Mauricio.
Do not trust the police report.
And most importantly, do not believe that Sofía's death was inevitable.
My knees nearly gave out.
Sofía.
The report had said she died from complications after the crash.
What did Mariana mean?
I searched the piano again.
Under the wood was a second compartment.
Inside was a USB drive.
I connected it to my laptop.
There was one video.
Mariana appeared on the screen.
She looked tired.
Afraid.
But alive.
“If you're watching this, Alejandro, I'm sorry.”
I couldn't breathe.
“I found out Mauricio wasn't working alone.”
She looked off-camera.
“There's another person inside your company.”
The video suddenly glitched.
Then returned.
Mariana whispered:
“The person is someone you trust.”
The screen went black.
I stared at it.
Valeria stood behind me.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Then Daniel entered.
“Sir, we found something.”
He placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed Mauricio outside the hospital the night Sofía died.
But he wasn't alone.
A woman stood beside him.
Her face was partially hidden.
Valeria stepped closer.
Then she whispered:
“I know her.”
I looked at her.
“Who is she?”
Valeria pointed at the photograph.
“My grandmother used to work for her.”
Before I could ask another question, my phone vibrated.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
It contained one photograph.
It was a photograph of Sofía.
Taken inside the hospital.
Three hours before she died.
May you like
And beneath it was a single sentence:
Your daughter knew the truth.
