Chapter 15 - Beatriz Chose Alejandro Before Camila DiedThe discovery changed the timeline.
Beatriz had not fallen in love with a grieving widower by chance.
She had identified Alejandro while Camila was still alive.
Police recovered old emails from the charitable foundation.
One message from Beatriz to a friend:
You should see Camila's husband. Reyes money is on another level.
Another:
They have a house in Marbella that looks like a magazine.
At first, vulgar curiosity.
Then something darker.
Beatriz requested access to donor lists.
Family-office contacts.
Estate-planning vendors.
She asked questions about Camila's foundation authority.
And Isabella's trust.
Not enough to prove a criminal plan four years earlier.
Enough to destroy the story she had told Alejandro about how they met.
He remembered that charity dinner.
Beatriz wearing dark green.
Her surprise when introduced.
“I've heard your name, of course.”
A carefully phrased truth.
She had heard far more than his name.
Alejandro visited Beatriz at her attorney's office.
He placed the photographs between them.
She stared.
“You knew Camila.”
“Yes.”
“You told me you didn't.”
“I said we weren't friends.”
“You said you'd never met her.”
Beatriz looked away.
“Why?”
“I knew you'd think it was strange.”
“It is strange.”
“She didn't like me.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought I stole from the foundation.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you ask about my money?”
Beatriz laughed bitterly.
“Everyone knew you were wealthy.”
“Did you ask about Isabella's trust?”
Silence.
Alejandro leaned forward.
“Before Camila died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Camila mentioned it.”
“That's not what the emails show.”
Beatriz's attorney interrupted.
“My client does not need to answer speculative questions unrelated to current allegations.”
Alejandro looked at him.
“Then she can answer as my wife.”
Beatriz whispered:
“Not for much longer.”
There it was.
Divorce.
Alejandro felt relief again.
“What happened between you and Camila?”
Beatriz's face changed.
“She humiliated me.”
“How?”
“She accused me in front of the foundation board.”
“Of theft.”
“I didn't take the money.”
“Who did?”
“I didn't know then.”
“Now?”
Beatriz hesitated.
“Rafael.”
Alejandro stared.
“Rafael knew Camila?”
“Yes.”
The web tightened.
Rafael had worked with the foundation's property portfolio.
He stole money.
Beatriz was suspected.
Instead of exposing him, she protected him because they were already involved.
“Were you sleeping with him then?”
“No.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“You covered for him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He had messages.”
“What messages?”
Beatriz looked at her attorney.
He nodded reluctantly.
“Messages where I talked about you.”
Alejandro sat back.
Before Camila died, Beatriz had told Rafael she found Alejandro attractive.
She joked about “trading up.”
Crude.
Embarrassing.
Not criminal.
But Rafael threatened to show Camila and destroy Beatriz professionally.
So Beatriz remained silent about the theft.
Camila died still believing Beatriz might have stolen.
Months later, Rafael approached Beatriz again.
This time with information.
Camila's trust structure.
The villa.
Isabella's assets.
“That's when the plan started?” Alejandro asked.
“No.”
“When?”
“After we married.”
“Why?”
Beatriz began crying.
“Because I realized nothing would ever truly be mine.”
Alejandro stared.
“You had everything.”
“No. I was allowed to use everything.”
“What is the difference?”
“Ownership.”
The answer was honest.
Ugly.
But honest.
“If you divorced me, I left with a settlement. The villa stayed Isabella's. The trust stayed Isabella's. Most company shares were protected.”
“So you decided to steal.”
“At first, I just wanted security.”
“Three point eight million euros?”
“It didn't start that large.”
“Does it ever?”
Beatriz looked down.
“What about the abuse?”
Her face closed.
“That wasn't part of the financial plan.”
“Then why?”
No answer.
“Why Isabella?”
Beatriz finally looked at him.
“Because every time I looked at her, I saw the one person who could never be removed from your life.”
Alejandro felt sick.
“She loved you.”
“I know.”
“She trusted you.”
“I know.”
“She wanted a mother.”
Beatriz began crying harder.
“I know.”
“And you punished her for existing.”
No defense came.
Alejandro stood.
Before leaving, he asked one final question.
“Did you ever love her?”
Beatriz's answer took too long.
“Sometimes.”
Alejandro nodded.
That might have been the cruelest truth of all.
Not that Beatriz had never cared.
That she could care about a child and still choose resentment every day.
His phone rang as he reached the hallway.
Marta.
“We found Rafael.”
“Where?”
“Not Morocco.”
Alejandro stopped.
“Where?”
“Marbella.”
“What?”
“He never left.”
“How?”
“Someone else used his passport on the private flight.”
“Where is he?”
Marta hesitated.
“In a rental house three kilometers from your villa.”
Alejandro's skin went cold.
“Why stay?”
“We don't know.”
Then Marta added:
“But we recovered surveillance photographs.”
“Of what?”
“Lucía's house in Madrid.”
May you like
Alejandro stopped breathing.
“And Isabella's school.”
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