Chapter 6 - The Contract with Alejandro's SignatureIsabella's passport was gone.
Alejandro knew exactly where it should have been.
Top drawer of the locked family safe.
His passport was there.
Beatriz's was there.
The villa documents were there.
Isabella's was missing.
“So now what?” Beatriz asked. “You're going to accuse me of kidnapping?”
Alejandro looked at her.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“Gabriel just told you to get it.”
“That doesn't mean I have it.”
“Where is the school contract?”
“There is no contract.”
Helena spoke from the tablet.
“I may be able to help with that.”
She had already begun contacting the school mentioned in financial records.
Its full name was Institut Montreux du Lac.
A residential program advertised as combining academic education with “behavioral and emotional restructuring.”
Alejandro hated the phrase instantly.
Helena forwarded a document.
Application for Isabella Reyes.
Starting date: September 5.
Two weeks away.
Alejandro opened it.
Reason for enrollment:
Persistent oppositional behavior, emotional instability, defiance toward stepmother, compulsive lying, inability to accept household boundaries.
He read it twice.
Then a third time.
“Isabella.”
She looked at him.
“Did anyone ask you about this?”
“No.”
Beatriz sighed.
“She clearly needs support.”
Alejandro ignored her.
He scrolled.
Medical authorization.
Residential consent.
Permission to restrict phone access during the first ninety days.
Permission to control family contact based on “therapeutic recommendations.”
Alejandro's skin went cold.
Ninety days without calling him.
Exactly what Beatriz needed.
Then he saw the signature.
ALEJANDRO REYES.
His handwriting.
Perfect.
Except he had never signed it.
“When did I supposedly sign this?”
Helena checked.
“June fourteenth.”
Alejandro remembered June fourteenth.
He had been in London.
Beatriz joined him for one night during a conference.
They had dinner.
Wine.
He woke the next morning with a headache and almost missed his flight.
He had blamed jet lag.
“Electronic or physical?”
“Physical signature uploaded as a scan.”
Alejandro looked at Beatriz.
“You took signed papers from me.”
“No.”
“You had access to my hotel room.”
“You're sounding paranoid.”
“Stop using that word.”
Beatriz looked away.
Helena continued.
“The first-year fee is two hundred eighty thousand euros.”
“And who owns the school?”
“Officially, a Swiss educational group.”
“Unofficially?”
“We're checking.”
Isabella had gone very quiet.
Alejandro noticed.
“Baby?”
She shook her head.
“What?”
Nothing.
He moved closer.
“You're safe.”
Isabella's voice trembled.
“She showed me pictures.”
“Of the school?”
“Yes.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That kids stay there when their parents don't want them at home.”
Alejandro's throat tightened.
“She said that?”
Isabella nodded.
“And if I kept being difficult, Dad would send me.”
Beatriz stepped forward.
“I never—”
“Stop.”
Alejandro looked at Isabella.
“What did difficult mean?”
She thought.
“Calling Grandma.”
“Anything else?”
“Leaving food.”
“Why would you leave food?”
“Sometimes I wasn't hungry.”
“Anything else?”
“Crying when she threw Mommy's things away.”
Alejandro turned toward Beatriz.
“What things?”
“No one threw anything away.”
Isabella stood.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“My box.”
Alejandro knew the box.
After Camila died, Alejandro made one for Isabella.
Photographs.
Camila's scarf.
A little bottle of her perfume.
Birthday cards.
A handwritten recipe.
A silver bracelet.
“Where is it?”
Isabella looked toward the terrace.
“She put it in the garbage.”
For one moment Alejandro couldn't process the sentence.
“When?”
“My birthday.”
“Six months ago?”
She nodded.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Isabella began crying.
“Because she said if I told you, you'd think I loved Mommy more than you.”
Alejandro looked at Beatriz.
His wife no longer defended herself.
Instead, she said:
“You kept your dead wife alive in every corner of this house.”
Alejandro stared.
“So you punished a child for missing her mother?”
“I was trying to help her move on.”
“You threw away her mother's belongings.”
“She needs a future.”
“She is eight.”
“And I'm tired of competing with a dead woman!”
The words echoed.
Isabella recoiled.
Beatriz realized too late that she had said it in front of her.
Alejandro walked toward her.
“You're not competing with Camila.”
“Don't lie.”
“You're competing with Isabella.”
Beatriz's face changed.
He had finally named it.
The resentment.
The punishments.
The isolation.
The nursery.
The school.
“That's why she has to go, isn't it?”
Beatriz laughed nervously.
“No.”
“You want the villa.”
“No.”
“You want access to her trust.”
“No.”
“You want a baby.”
Tears appeared in Beatriz's eyes.
“That is not a crime.”
“No.”
Alejandro looked toward Isabella.
“But trying to remove my daughter from her own life might be.”
His phone rang.
Security.
The guard's voice was urgent.
“Señor Reyes, Mrs. Reyes's car just left through the service gate.”
Alejandro stared at Beatriz.
She was standing directly in front of him.
“Whose car?”
“The white Mercedes.”
Alejandro looked toward the driveway camera.
A car was disappearing down the road.
May you like
Someone else was driving.
And according to GPS, Isabella's passport was inside it.
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