Chapter 10 - The Night Gabriel Entered Their BedroomAlejandro called police immediately.
Gabriel denied taking the photographs.
He claimed he had never entered Alejandro's bedroom.
The image said otherwise.
Detective Marta enlarged it.
Gabriel stood just inside the door.
Fully dressed.
Beatriz appeared asleep.
Alejandro appeared unconscious.
“What happened that night?” Marta asked.
Alejandro checked the date.
March 18.
He had returned from Paris that evening.
Dinner with Beatriz.
Two glasses of wine.
Then nothing.
He remembered waking late the next morning with a pounding headache.
“What are you thinking?” Marta asked.
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
Alejandro looked toward Isabella sleeping upstairs.
“I think someone drugged me.”
Marta did not dismiss it.
Blood testing months later would prove nothing.
But they could examine records.
Prescriptions.
Purchases.
Messages.
The family wine inventory.
A pharmacy account linked to Gabriel showed repeated purchases of strong prescription sleep medication through a doctor in Switzerland.
The doctor claimed the medication was for Gabriel.
Then police searched Gabriel's messages.
One from Beatriz:
He'll sleep through anything with two.
Another:
Don't come upstairs until I text.
Alejandro felt nauseated.
What had Gabriel done in the bedroom?
Beatriz's attorney claimed the messages referred to Alejandro's insomnia medication.
Alejandro had never had insomnia medication.
Then investigators found a hidden cloud folder attached to Gabriel's phone.
Hundreds of photographs.
Documents.
Passports.
Signed papers.
Images of Alejandro's credit cards.
His driver's license.
His signature.
His phone screen while unlocked.
And photographs of Isabella.
Sleeping.
Eating.
Crying.
Doing chores.
One video showed Beatriz standing outside the storage room door.
Isabella could be heard crying inside.
Beatriz held her phone up toward the door.
“What do you want?” Beatriz asked.
“I want Dad.”
“He doesn't want to come home.”
“He does.”
“Then why isn't he here?”
Silence.
“Say it.”
Isabella cried.
“Because I'm bad.”
Beatriz smiled.
“Good girl.”
Alejandro left the room before the video ended.
He walked outside the police station and vomited beside a planter.
Marta followed but did not speak until he stood again.
“I should have known.”
“You know now.”
“That doesn't help her then.”
“No.”
Alejandro appreciated the honesty.
Everyone kept offering him comfort.
Marta offered truth.
“What were the photographs for?”
“Control, probably.”
“Blackmail?”
“Possibly.”
“Against me?”
“Against anyone.”
Gabriel eventually broke.
Not completely.
Enough.
He admitted Beatriz asked him to document Isabella's “behavioral problems.”
The goal was to build evidence supporting residential placement.
“How does photographing her asleep in a locked room show behavioral problems?”
Gabriel looked away.
“It wasn't my idea.”
“Then whose?”
“Beatriz's.”
“Why was I photographed?”
“She wanted proof you were absent.”
Alejandro frowned.
“I was in the photograph.”
“Absent emotionally.”
The plan became clearer.
If Alejandro resisted sending Isabella away, Beatriz intended to argue that he had neglected the child's worsening behavioral condition because of work.
She had records of travel.
Missed school meetings.
Delegated care.
Emails in which “Alejandro” approved treatment.
Her own records would make her appear like the responsible parent desperately trying to help.
Alejandro stared.
“She was building a case against both of us.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“What did she want?”
“The school.”
“No. After that.”
Gabriel hesitated.
“A permanent role in the trust.”
“How?”
“If Alejandro was considered incapable of managing Isabella's needs, Beatriz hoped the court would appoint a professional co-trustee.”
“Controlled by whom?”
Gabriel looked at the table.
“Us.”
Alejandro stood.
“Us?”
Gabriel realized the mistake.
Marta leaned forward.
“Who else?”
Silence.
“Gabriel.”
His lawyer objected.
Gabriel ignored him.
“There was another investor.”
“Name.”
“I don't know his real name.”
“What did he want?”
“The villa.”
Alejandro stopped.
“What?”
“He had already agreed to buy it once Isabella was permanently placed outside Spain.”
“For how much?”
“Twenty-one million.”
The property was worth at least forty.
“Who gets the difference?”
Gabriel looked away.
“Beatriz.”
Alejandro felt his hands shaking.
His wife was preparing to steal his daughter's inheritance, remove her from the country and sell her home.
“Who is the buyer?”
Gabriel refused.
Marta placed the anonymous photographs on the table.
“Did this person take these?”
Gabriel's face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Alejandro saw it.
“Who sent them?”
May you like
Gabriel whispered:
“If he's sending you photographs, Beatriz has a bigger problem than prison.”
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