Chapter 3 - Someone Else Had the Password
I did not tell Lucía about the second security account that night.
She had finally fallen asleep after the doctor gave her medication for the pain. I sat beside the window, watching reflected hospital lights drift across the dark glass.
At 2:17 in the morning, Detective Rivas sent me an address.
The security account had been created using a prepaid phone and an encrypted email address. But the recovery number was connected to a small financial consulting company called Valera Strategic Services.
I knew the name.
My younger cousin, Javier Valera, had founded the company three years earlier.
Javier was charming, careless and always one expensive mistake away from disaster. He had borrowed money from nearly everyone in the family. Mercedes defended him every time.
“He’s ambitious,” she would say.
What she meant was that Javier obeyed her.
At eight the next morning, I left Lucía with a hospital advocate and drove to Javier’s office.
Valera Strategic Services occupied two rooms above a closed jewelry store. The receptionist’s desk was empty. Dust covered the artificial plants near the entrance.
Javier was packing files into a cardboard box when I entered.
He looked up and froze.
“Mateo.”
“Going somewhere?”
He forced a smile.
“Moving to a better office.”
“At eight in the morning?”
“Early start.”
I closed the door behind me.
Javier glanced toward the stairwell.
“Where is Aunt Mercedes?”
“At the police station.”
The box slipped slightly in his hands.
“Why?”
“You already know.”
He set it down.
“I don’t know anything.”
“Then you won’t mind showing me your phone.”
His face hardened.
“You can’t come into my office and demand—”
“I’m not demanding.”
I placed a printed copy of the fraudulent refinancing application on his desk.
“I’m giving you a chance to explain why your company appears in the security records from my home.”
His eyes dropped toward the signature page.
For one second, guilt crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“I provided Mercedes with technical support. That’s all.”
“You created an unauthorized account.”
“She said she kept forgetting the password.”
“She used that account to watch my pregnant wife.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Did you know she deleted evidence of an assault?”
Javier looked toward the window.
“No.”
“Did you help her forge my signature?”
His jaw tightened.
I stepped closer.
“The bank application lists your company as the financial adviser.”
“That doesn’t mean I forged anything.”
“It means you submitted the documents.”
His confidence collapsed.
He lowered himself into his chair.
“I needed money.”
“How much?”
He said nothing.
“How much, Javier?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“Investments.”
“Gambling?”
His silence answered me.
I walked to the window and looked down at the empty street.
Mercedes had always told me Javier was misunderstood. She said the family abandoned him because they were jealous of his confidence.
In reality, he had accumulated debts with private lenders who did not send polite notices.
“She offered to help you,” I said.
Javier rubbed his forehead.
“She said the house had enough equity. She said you would never notice if the loan was paid on time.”
“With what money?”
“She had a plan.”
“What plan?”
“I don’t know everything.”
I turned around.
“That answer may protect you from Mercedes, but it will not protect you from fraud charges.”
His face went pale.
“She said Lucía would be gone before the bank completed the final review.”
The room became still.
“What do you mean, gone?”
Javier stood quickly.
“I assumed she meant you were getting divorced.”
“Did she say divorce?”
“No.”
“What exactly did she say?”
He swallowed.
“She said the baby would change everything if she didn’t act first.”
I crossed the room and grabbed his shirt.
“Did she plan to hurt my wife?”
“I don’t know!”
“Did she?”
“I swear, Mateo. I only handled the documents.”
I released him.
Javier stumbled backward against the desk.
“What other documents?”
He looked toward the box.
I opened it before he could stop me.
Inside were photocopies of bank statements, property records and medical forms.
At the bottom was a draft petition seeking emergency control over my assets.
The petitioner was Mercedes Álvarez.
The petition claimed I had become mentally unstable under the influence of my wife.
Attached were statements from Javier and two distant relatives alleging I had isolated myself from the family.
There was also a letter from a private physician stating that I displayed signs of impaired judgment.
I had never met the physician.
My mother was not only trying to refinance the house.
She was building a case to have me declared incompetent.
“You signed this?” I asked.
Javier looked ashamed.
“She said it was only leverage.”
“Against whom?”
“Lucía.”
I continued searching through the box.
Beneath the petition was a document titled Voluntary Relinquishment of Marital Property Rights.
Lucía’s name appeared on the final page.
The signature looked genuine.
My stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
Javier shook his head.
“I never saw that one.”
The document stated that Lucía voluntarily surrendered all legal interest in the house and agreed to leave the property if our marriage ended.
It also stated that she had accepted seventy-five thousand dollars in exchange.
No such payment had ever been made.
I photographed every page.
“You are coming to the police station.”
Javier stepped back.
“You said this was a chance to explain.”
“It was.”
“Mercedes will destroy me.”
I looked at him.
“She nearly destroyed my wife.”
As we walked toward the door, Javier’s phone buzzed on the desk.
A new message appeared on the screen.
He reached for it, but I saw the name first.
MERCEDES.
The message contained only one sentence.
Do not let Mateo find the basement room.
Javier and I stared at each other.
“What basement room?” I asked.
May you like
His face lost all color.
“The one beneath your father’s old office.”
