Chapter 8 - How Beatriz Made a Father DisappearAlejandro played the recording three times.
Each time, the same sentence hurt more.
I can make him stop coming home whenever I want.
He remembered missed flights.
Extended trips.
Emergency meetings.
Problems that always seemed to appear when he planned family time.
He opened his calendar.
January.
A supposed investor crisis in Miami.
Beatriz had forwarded the email.
February.
A client emergency in New York.
Again, Beatriz had first alerted him.
March.
A last-minute dinner in London.
He began calling people.
The Miami investor had indeed needed a meeting.
But not urgently.
The client in New York had requested a video call, not an in-person visit.
The London dinner had been scheduled for the following week.
Someone had repeatedly exaggerated business matters to keep him traveling.
Alejandro's executive assistant, Naomi Chen, answered from New York.
“I thought you wanted the travel.”
“Why?”
“Beatriz told me you preferred to combine trips.”
Alejandro leaned back.
“Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.”
Naomi became quiet.
“Alejandro… should I be worried?”
“Yes.”
He explained enough.
Naomi began forwarding old messages.
Beatriz asking:
Can we move his return to Sunday? Isabella has plans Saturday and I'd rather not disrupt them.
Another:
He told me to extend the Madrid trip. Please adjust the jet.
Alejandro had told her no such thing.
One email made his blood run cold.
Three months earlier, Naomi had written:
Alejandro is thinking about cancelling Chicago. Isabella seemed sad on their call.
Beatriz replied:
Don't. She needs to learn not to manipulate his schedule with tears.
Alejandro stared.
He had never seen it.
Naomi had assumed his wife spoke for him.
Everyone had.
That was Beatriz's real power.
Not money.
Not physical strength.
Access.
She stood between people and controlled what each believed the others had said.
Alejandro went downstairs.
Beatriz had moved into a guest suite while attorneys argued over whether she could legally remain in the villa.
Alejandro knocked once.
She opened the door.
“Did you manipulate my travel?”
Her expression barely changed.
“What now?”
“Did you tell Naomi to extend trips without asking me?”
“I managed our schedule.”
“Did you block Lucía's email?”
“No.”
“Did you delete my messages to Isabella?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Isabella you could make me stop coming home?”
Beatriz froze.
Alejandro held up the recorder.
Now she understood.
“She recorded me?”
“Yes.”
“That little—”
“Finish that sentence.”
Beatriz stopped.
Alejandro stared.
“Say what you were going to call my daughter.”
Silence.
“You hate her.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I hate what she has done to our marriage.”
“She is eight years old.”
“She controls you.”
“She asks her father to come home.”
“And you drop everything.”
“No. Apparently I didn't.”
That silenced both of them.
Alejandro looked away.
For months, Isabella had asked.
He had not listened.
Beatriz lowered her voice.
“I wanted us to have a life.”
“We had one.”
“No. You, me and Camila's ghost had one.”
Alejandro looked back.
“Stop blaming a dead woman.”
“Everything belongs to her!”
“The villa belongs to Isabella.”
“Exactly!”
There.
Again.
The truth escaping.
Beatriz continued.
“Do you understand how humiliating it is to live in a home where an eight-year-old technically owns the walls?”
“A normal person doesn't feel humiliated by a child's inheritance.”
“I gave five years to this family!”
“You married me.”
“I helped raise her.”
“You forced her into garbage.”
“I made her work!”
“You made her afraid.”
Beatriz's face changed.
Alejandro saw something close to hatred.
“She is spoiled.”
“No.”
“She cries and you give her everything.”
“She lost her mother.”
“So did millions of children!”
Alejandro stared at the woman he had married.
He wondered when he had stopped noticing her cruelty.
Or had it always been reserved for moments he wasn't there?
“Why the school?”
Beatriz turned away.
“Because I couldn't do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Raise someone else's child.”
“Then you could have left.”
The simplicity of that answer infuriated her.
“I would leave with nothing.”
Alejandro finally understood.
“That's it.”
“What?”
“You wanted the marriage.”
“I loved you.”
“You wanted the lifestyle.”
“I loved you.”
“The villa.”
“Stop.”
“The trust money.”
“Stop!”
“The baby you haven't even conceived.”
Beatriz threw a glass against the wall.
It shattered.
Alejandro didn't move.
She breathed hard.
“You think I planned five years around money?”
“I think you learned exactly what you'd lose if you walked away.”
Her face told him yes.
Then his phone rang.
Helena.
She had completed the first stage of the trust audit.
“Alejandro, we found something much larger than the fake lessons.”
“How large?”
“Three point eight million euros.”
He looked at Beatriz.
“Where?”
“Transferred through a child-welfare services company.”
“Name?”
“Vida Nueva Consulting.”
Beatriz closed her eyes.
Alejandro noticed.
“Who owns it?”
Helena hesitated.
“Officially? Gabriel.”
Alejandro stared at his wife.
“Unofficially, the bank records show almost every payment ended up in an account controlled by Beatriz.”
Silence.
May you like
Then Helena added:
“And yesterday, someone tried to empty it.”
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