Chapter 7 - The Man Driving Beatriz's CarPolice stopped the Mercedes twenty-eight minutes later.
Gabriel Torres was behind the wheel.
Isabella's passport was in a leather folder on the passenger seat.
Beside it were copies of the Swiss school contract.
And twelve thousand euros in cash.
Gabriel insisted he had done nothing illegal.
He claimed Beatriz asked him to retrieve “travel documents” because the family planned to take Isabella to Switzerland.
Alejandro listened from the villa while Detective Marta Soler explained.
“He says you approved everything.”
“I didn't.”
“He has messages.”
“From me?”
“From a number saved under your name.”
Alejandro looked at Beatriz.
She was sitting across the room with an attorney now.
In less than an hour she had transformed from a woman in a silk robe holding a cocktail to someone who refused to answer questions without legal advice.
Marta continued.
“The number isn't yours.”
“Whose?”
“Prepaid phone.”
Alejandro stared at Beatriz.
“Can you prove she used it?”
“We're working on it.”
Gabriel was released pending investigation because possession of the passport alone did not establish kidnapping.
But police retained the documents.
They also photographed Isabella's hands and condition.
A pediatric physician examined her that evening.
No severe physical injuries.
Dehydration.
Blisters.
Mild nutritional concerns.
Stress.
The phrase that hurt Alejandro most was behavior consistent with chronic fear.
Chronic.
Not one afternoon.
Not one punishment that got out of hand.
A pattern.
Alejandro sat beside Isabella's bed that night.
She refused to sleep unless the door stayed open.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is Beatriz mad?”
He took a breath.
“Probably.”
“Is she mad at me?”
“No.”
“Are you?”
Alejandro looked at her.
“For what?”
“For telling.”
His heart broke quietly.
“No.”
She studied his face.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Even the bad things?”
“Especially those.”
Isabella pulled the blanket higher.
“Beatriz said families get ruined when kids tell stories.”
Alejandro swallowed.
“Families get ruined when adults do bad things and make children hide them.”
She thought about that.
Then:
“Are you going away again?”
He hesitated.
Eventually business travel would return.
But he understood what she was truly asking.
“Not until you feel safe.”
“Never?”
“Safe doesn't have to mean I'm standing beside you every second.”
She didn't look convinced.
Alejandro leaned closer.
“It means you know I will listen even when I'm far away.”
Isabella whispered:
“You didn't before.”
He closed his eyes.
“No.”
The truth hurt.
“I didn't.”
He could have defended himself.
He worked.
Beatriz lied.
Messages were deleted.
Everyone trusted his wife.
None of that mattered to Isabella.
“I should have.”
She nodded.
Not cruelly.
Simply acknowledging reality.
Alejandro stayed until she slept.
At midnight, he found Lucía in the kitchen.
She had flown in from Madrid.
The moment she saw him, she slapped him.
Alejandro did not stop her.
“You left her with that woman.”
“I know.”
“I called you.”
“What?”
Lucía stared.
“I called you in February.”
“I never got a call.”
“I left voicemail.”
He checked old records.
Nothing.
Lucía's eyes narrowed.
“I also emailed.”
“What address?”
His personal account.
Alejandro searched.
Nothing.
Then Lucía produced her phone.
Sent folder.
There it was.
Subject:
I AM WORRIED ABOUT ISABELLA.
Alejandro checked blocked addresses.
Lucía was on the list.
He had never blocked her.
Someone with access to his account had.
Beatriz knew his passwords.
He changed them after the discovery.
But the damage had already happened.
Lucía opened another email.
“I sent this in April.”
It contained photographs.
Isabella visiting her grandmother before contact stopped.
A bruise on her shin.
Nothing unusual for a child.
But Lucía's message explained Isabella had said Beatriz forced her to scrub the terrace until midnight because she spilled juice.
Alejandro stared.
“Midnight?”
“She fell asleep at breakfast the next morning.”
“Why didn't you call police?”
“I didn't know if Isabella exaggerated. Beatriz denied it. And then Isabella called me crying and begged me not to say anything because you'd be angry at her.”
Alejandro felt physically ill.
Beatriz had weaponized him without his participation.
She didn't need Alejandro to abuse Isabella.
She only needed Isabella to believe he would.
Lucía pulled another item from her bag.
A small digital recorder.
“What is that?”
“Isabella gave it to me the last time I saw her.”
Alejandro stared.
“She said Beatriz checked her phone, so she recorded things on this.”
“Why didn't you listen?”
“I did.”
Lucía's expression darkened.
“Most of it is ordinary household noise.”
“Most?”
“One recording isn't.”
Alejandro pressed play.
At first, Isabella's voice.
Quiet.
“I'm sorry.”
Then Beatriz.
“You keep testing me.”
“I won't call Grandma.”
“No, you won't.”
“I promise.”
A pause.
Then Beatriz said:
“Because next time, I won't punish you.”
Isabella sniffled.
“Who?”
Beatriz's answer came clearly.
“Your father.”
Alejandro went still.
May you like
The recording continued.
“I can make him stop coming home whenever I want.”
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