Chapter 3 - The Son No One Was Supposed to Know
Alejandro thought he had misheard him.
“My father was what?”
Gabriel did not repeat himself immediately.
The emergency alarm continued somewhere down the corridor, followed by hurried footsteps and the squeak of wheels against polished tile.
None of it seemed as loud as the blood pounding in Alejandro's ears.
Rafael sat down.
That frightened Alejandro more than Gabriel's words.
Because his uncle wasn't shocked.
“You knew.”
Rafael rubbed both hands over his face.
“Yes.”
Camila stared at him.
“You knew Dad had another son?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty-eight years.”
Camila backed away.
“You watched us grow up.”
“I know.”
“You came to every Christmas.”
“I know.”
“You gave speeches about family loyalty at my wedding!”
“Camila—”
“Don't say my name!”
Alejandro remained focused on Gabriel.
“Prove it.”
Gabriel nodded as if he had expected the demand.
He opened the folder again.
This time he removed a birth certificate.
Gabriel Thomas Mercer.
Mother: Elena Mercer.
Father:
Blank.
Then came a handwritten letter.
Alejandro recognized the handwriting before he read a word.
His father's.
My dear Gabriel...
Alejandro stopped.
He couldn't continue.
Gabriel finished for him.
“He acknowledged me privately. Never legally.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother threatened to leave him and take you and Camila.”
Alejandro looked toward Rafael.
“Is that true?”
Rafael nodded.
“Your father met Elena before he married Esther.”
That changed something.
Alejandro looked at Gabriel again.
“So you weren't the result of an affair?”
“No.”
“My mother knew?”
“Eventually.”
“How?”
Rafael answered.
“She found the letters.”
Alejandro suddenly understood the safe.
“The documents are in my father's study.”
“Some of them,” Gabriel said.
“And the trust?”
Gabriel's expression became complicated.
“That is where this gets worse.”
Alejandro laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Worse?”
His wife was lying in a hospital because someone might have been poisoning her.
His mother had attacked her.
His dead father had a secret son.
His uncle had lied for almost three decades.
“What exactly qualifies as worse tonight?”
Gabriel looked directly at him.
“The trust wasn't created to give your child control of the company.”
Alejandro waited.
“It was created to return something your father stole.”
Rafael stood.
“Gabriel.”
“No.”
Gabriel's voice hardened.
“He deserves the truth.”
Alejandro moved closer.
“What did he steal?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“My mother's company.”
The answer made no sense.
“Elena Mercer didn't own Aranda International.”
“No.”
Gabriel's eyes were cold.
“She owned the land beneath the first Aranda shipping terminal.”
Alejandro went still.
The Long Beach terminal.
The property that had transformed his grandfather's modest freight operation into a major shipping company.
The foundation of everything.
Gabriel continued.
“My grandfather died with debts. Your grandfather acquired the property through a company controlled by a lawyer. Years later, your father discovered documents showing the transfer had been fraudulent.”
Alejandro looked at Rafael.
Again, his uncle didn't deny it.
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
“And did nothing?”
“He tried,” Rafael said.
“When?”
“Near the end of his life.”
Alejandro shook his head.
“No. Dad believed in fixing problems immediately.”
“Your father was dying.”
“He had a heart attack.”
Rafael looked at him.
“No.”
Alejandro stared.
“What?”
Rafael's voice lowered.
“Your father's heart condition had been diagnosed almost a year earlier.”
“You're lying.”
“He hid it from you.”
“Why?”
“Because he was trying to repair everything before he died.”
Alejandro turned away.
The hospital corridor suddenly felt too narrow.
His father's final year returned to him in fragments.
Late meetings.
Unexpected trips.
Arguments with Esther behind closed doors.
Documents disappearing from the office.
Alejandro had been twenty-six and desperate to prove himself.
He had assumed it was business.
Maybe it had been something else entirely.
Gabriel continued.
“The trust was your father's compromise. He couldn't legally unwind decades of ownership without destroying the company and thousands of jobs. So he created a succession structure.”
“For my child?”
“For the next generation.”
Alejandro frowned.
“Why my child and not you?”
“Because I refused the shares.”
That surprised him.
“You refused thirty-eight percent of Aranda International?”
“I didn't want your family's money.”
“Our family's.”
Gabriel's expression shifted.
For the first time, anger disappeared.
Something sadder replaced it.
“That's easy for you to say.”
Alejandro had no answer.
A nurse appeared.
“Mr. Aranda?”
Alejandro turned immediately.
“Your wife is asking for you.”
He forgot everything else.
Valeria lay pale beneath white hospital sheets.
Monitors surrounded her.
A steady heartbeat filled the room.
Their baby's heartbeat.
Alejandro stood in the doorway listening.
Valeria opened her eyes.
“You heard it?”
He nodded.
“Our daughter?”
“Still stubborn.”
A laugh escaped him.
Then he crossed the room and took her hand.
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For believing the photograph.”
Valeria looked away.
“For making you afraid to tell me.”
Her eyes returned to his.
“That wasn't entirely your fault.”
“Whose was it?”
“Victor's.”
Alejandro froze.
“The attorney?”
Valeria nodded.
“He showed me something two weeks ago.”
“What?”
“A document.”
“What document?”
“Your prenuptial agreement.”
Alejandro frowned.
“What about it?”
“He said there was a clause allowing you to remove me from the house immediately if there was evidence of infidelity.”
“There is no such clause.”
“I know that now.”
Alejandro's face hardened.
“He lied to you.”
“He showed me a page with your signature.”
“Forged.”
“That's what Gabriel said.”
Alejandro thought about Victor discouraging everyone from speaking.
About Victor's knowledge of the trust.
About Victor's sudden absence from the hospital.
“Why would he want you afraid of me?”
Valeria squeezed his hand.
“So I wouldn't tell you what was happening.”
The door opened.
Gabriel entered.
His expression told Alejandro something was wrong.
“What happened?”
Gabriel held up his phone.
“I just received a call from the laboratory.”
Alejandro stood.
“Another result?”
“No.”
Gabriel looked at Valeria.
“Someone broke into the lab twenty minutes ago.”
Her face drained.
“The samples?”
“Gone.”
Alejandro's jaw tightened.
“All of them?”
“Every packet we submitted.”
“Security cameras?”
“Disabled.”
Alejandro immediately took out his phone.
He called Victor.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He called the mansion.
Teresa answered on the fourth ring.
“Señor Alejandro?”
“Where is Victor?”
“I thought he went to the hospital.”
“He didn't.”
A pause.
Then Teresa said something that made him grip the phone tighter.
“Señor… Mr. Salazar returned after you left.”
“Why?”
“He went into your father's study.”
Alejandro's eyes moved to Gabriel.
“Is he still there?”
“No.”
“What did he take?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is my mother?”
Another pause.
“She's gone too.”
Alejandro's stomach turned cold.
“Together?”
“I don't know.”
Then Teresa whispered:
“But the painting in your father's study is on the floor.”
Alejandro looked at Rafael.
“The safe.”
Rafael stood.
Gabriel closed his folder.
Alejandro pressed the phone against his ear.
“Teresa, listen carefully. Don't touch anything. Lock yourself in your room.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever my father put in that safe…”
He looked at Valeria.
“…someone is willing to hurt my wife to keep it hidden.”
Valeria suddenly spoke.
“Alejandro.”
He turned.
She was staring toward the doorway.
A man in blue hospital scrubs stood there.
Nobody recognized him.
He was holding a syringe.
Gabriel moved first.
“Who are you?”
The stranger stepped backward.
Alejandro lunged.
The man ran.
Gabriel shouted for security.
Alejandro chased him into the corridor.
The stranger slammed through the stairwell door.
Alejandro followed.
Three flights down, he nearly caught him.
Then the man threw something over the railing.
A syringe.
It shattered on the concrete below.
Alejandro tackled him on the next landing.
They crashed into the wall.
The stranger fought desperately.
Alejandro pinned him.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughed.
“Get off me!”
“Who sent you?”
Security guards thundered down the stairs.
The stranger looked at Alejandro.
And smiled.
“You still think your mother is the one you should be afraid of?”
Alejandro froze.
“What does that mean?”
The guards pulled the man away.
As they did, something fell from his pocket.
A photograph.
Alejandro picked it up.
It showed Valeria.
Taken from across the street outside her doctor's office.
On the back were four handwritten words.
DO NOT LET HER DELIVER.
Alejandro stared at them.
Then he noticed the handwriting.
He had seen it every day for fifteen years.
On contracts.
On legal memoranda.
May you like
On birthday cards.
Victor Salazar.
