Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN’T MINE
By eight the next morning, Elena had already frozen every account Mauricio might possibly touch.
By eight fifteen, my banker had confirmed that the transfer request contained a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
That one word saved me.
I had changed my signature slightly after my father died. Mauricio had apparently copied the version printed on an older document.
Elena noticed immediately.
“Forgery,” she said.
I stared at the paperwork.
“He actually tried to steal my company shares.”
“He tried to initiate the process. It didn’t complete.”
“Because the bank called.”
“Because Ernesto required secondary verification on any transfer involving his interest.”
My father again.
Dead eleven years and still standing between me and people trying to take what he had built.
We went to Banco Continental.
Box 417 was located in an older branch downtown.
The manager inspected the key, the authorization documents, and my identification before leading us into the vault.
Inside the box were four thick folders, an external hard drive, and another letter.
This one was addressed:
TO MY DAUGHTER AND WHOEVER IS TRYING TO STEAL FROM HER.
Despite everything, I laughed.
“That sounds like him.”
Elena smiled.
“It does.”
The first folder contained land records.
The second contained correspondence between my father and Arturo Ruiz.
The third contained financial statements.
The fourth contained photographs.
One photograph made Elena sit upright.
It showed Arturo Ruiz standing beside a much younger Ofelia.
Not casually.
His arm was around her waist.
I turned the photograph over.
1994.
“What the hell?”
Elena took another photograph from the folder.
Ofelia again.
Arturo again.
And a baby.
Mauricio.
I felt the room tilt.
“No.”
Elena said nothing.
I opened the second letter.
Valeria,
If this becomes necessary, you deserve the complete truth.
Arturo Ruiz had an affair with Ofelia Serrano many years ago. Her son Mauricio may be his child. Arturo never confirmed it publicly, but he provided Ofelia money for years.
My eyes lifted.
Mauricio might be Arturo Ruiz’s son.
Which meant Sebastián Ruiz could be Mauricio’s half brother.
And Fernanda could be his half sister.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
Elena took the letter.
She read quickly.
Then she reached the next paragraph.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Fernanda’s relationship is different.”
She continued reading.
Cecilia Salcedo’s daughter Fernanda is not Arturo’s biological child. Cecilia married Arturo briefly after Fernanda was born. Sebastián nevertheless treats Fernanda as family.
I exhaled.
The situation remained grotesque, but not in the way I had feared.
Elena kept reading.
Arturo became obsessed with consolidating the property after learning the city intended to expand industrial infrastructure. I refused. If anything happens to me, review the option agreement carefully.
We found the agreement.
The language was dense.
Elena read it twice.
Then she smiled.
“What?”
“Sebastián has a problem.”
“What kind?”
“When Arturo borrowed money against company property without Ernesto’s written consent, he triggered the option.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your father had the right to buy twenty-one percent at the old contract valuation.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-three years.”
I stared at her.
“That would be…”
“Cheap.”
“How cheap?”
“Compared with today? Almost nothing.”
For the first time since finding my father’s photograph in the trash, I felt something other than grief or rage.
Power.
Not revenge.
Power.
The kind that comes from knowing you no longer have to beg people to behave decently.
We copied everything.
Then Elena plugged the external drive into an offline laptop.
There were recordings.
One was labeled OFELIA — APRIL 2002.
We listened.
My father’s voice came first.
“You tell Arturo I’m not selling.”
Then Ofelia.
“You’re making a mistake, Ernesto.”
“You’ve been saying that for five years.”
“You don’t understand what Arturo can do.”
“I understand exactly what he can do. What I don’t understand is why you’re doing his dirty work.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Elena.
“My father knew Ofelia?”
“Yes.”
“Before Mauricio and I met?”
“Apparently.”
A horrible thought formed.
“What if my marriage wasn’t an accident either?”
Elena did not answer immediately.
That silence was enough.
We returned to her office and began reconstructing the timeline.
Mauricio met me at a charity event four years ago.
Who invited him?
A development consultant connected to Ruiz Holdings.
Who introduced us?
An executive whose company leased warehouse space from Sebastián.
Coincidences accumulated until they stopped looking like coincidences.
At noon, Mauricio called.
I answered this time.
“Did you forge my signature?”
Silence.
“Vale—”
“Did you?”
“I was told it was temporary.”
I almost admired the stupidity of that answer.
“You forged my signature temporarily?”
“Fernanda said the restructuring would protect us.”
“Us.”
“Our family.”
“You mean your new family.”
He started crying.
Actually crying.
“I didn’t know everything.”
“You knew enough.”
“My mother told me the shares would eventually belong to us anyway.”
There it was.
Not love.
Entitlement.
“Who told your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Another silence.
Then he whispered, “Sebastián.”
Elena wrote the name on a legal pad.
“When did you first meet him?”
“Last year.”
“Lie.”
“What?”
“Try again.”
Mauricio breathed heavily.
“Before our wedding.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
“How long before?”
“Six months.”
“And he knew who I was?”
“Yes.”
I hung up.
No goodbye.
No argument.
Nothing.
Elena leaned back.
“Your husband just admitted prior contact with Sebastián.”
“Can we use that?”
“If we document it properly.”
Her assistant entered.
“Elena, there’s someone here asking for Valeria.”
“Who?”
The assistant looked uncomfortable.
“Fernanda Salcedo.”
I stood.
Elena shook her head.
“You do not meet her alone.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Fernanda entered five minutes later.
She was younger than I expected.
Twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven.
Her pregnancy was visible beneath a fitted blue dress.
For months I had imagined her as a confident seductress.
Instead, she looked terrified.
She placed a flash drive on Elena’s desk.
“I need protection.”
I stared at her.
“From whom?”
“Sebastián.”
Elena didn’t touch the drive.
Fernanda looked directly at me.
“Mauricio thinks Sebastián helped us because he cares about the baby.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t.”
She swallowed.
“He needed Mauricio close enough to you to get signatures.”
My skin prickled.
“And the pregnancy?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“That wasn’t part of the original plan.”
“Original plan?”
Fernanda nodded.
“I was supposed to become Mauricio’s assistant, make him feel important, and convince him that you were hiding money from him.”
My stomach hardened.
She continued.
“But then he and I…”
“You slept together.”
“Yes.”
“And got pregnant.”
“Yes.”
I felt surprisingly little jealousy.
The betrayal had become too large for jealousy.
“Why are you here?”
Fernanda pushed the flash drive closer.
“Because Sebastián told me yesterday that if the transfer failed, we move to Plan B.”
Elena asked, “What is Plan B?”
Fernanda looked at me.
“To make everyone believe Valeria Mendoza is mentally unstable.”
I thought of the supplements.
“What exactly were they going to do?”
May you like
Fernanda’s voice dropped.
“Drug you.”
