Chapter 11 - Victor’s Last Bargain
Samantha had known my name six years before Victor introduced himself to me.
That changed everything.
My marriage had not been a three-year scheme.
It had been part of something much older.
Investigators enhanced the warehouse recording.
Most of the conversation remained difficult to hear.
But several phrases emerged.
Raul:
“Ellison trust.”
Samantha:
“She doesn’t even know him.”
Victor:
“She will.”
And later:
“You’re not ruining this.”
The date on the video was six years earlier.
My mother was still alive then.
I was finishing graduate school.
Victor had somehow selected me years before we met.
Why?
The answer came from Samantha’s old laptop.
Her family had kept it in storage.
Police recovered deleted emails.
Samantha once worked events for Harlan & Pierce Fiduciary Services.
At a company dinner, she overheard Michael Trent discussing wealthy beneficiaries whose trusts would transfer at certain ages.
Most names meant nothing to her.
Mine did.
Thomas Ellison’s daughter.
Samantha later discovered Victor had copied documents from her laptop.
She confronted him.
That was why he brought her to the warehouse.
She wasn’t killed because she was his girlfriend.
She was killed because she knew the plan.
I sat in my lawyer’s office staring at the evidence.
“Did Victor marry Carla after Samantha?”
“No,” Rachel said. “They never married.”
“Then why stay with her?”
“We can’t know.”
Carla had a theory.
Victor needed a normal life while waiting for the right moment to approach me.
Carla made him look stable.
Then she became pregnant.
When she became inconvenient, he abused her until she fled.
It was chilling.
But it made sense.
Victor didn’t experience relationships like normal people.
People were useful.
Until they weren’t.
Two days later, Victor asked prosecutors for a meeting.
Not through his lawyer.
Directly.
He claimed he had information about Raul and Samantha.
In exchange, he wanted a reduced sentence.
And something else.
Access to his daughter.
The request enraged me.
“He’s bargaining with my baby.”
Rachel shook her head.
“He can ask. That doesn’t mean anyone accepts.”
Prosecutors refused to negotiate custody because it wasn’t theirs to give.
Victor changed his demand.
He wanted me to visit him.
“One conversation,” his attorney said. “No physical contact. Recorded. Counsel present.”
Dad said absolutely not.
Rachel advised against it.
Detective Brooks said it was my decision.
I thought about it for two days.
Then I agreed.
Not because Victor deserved closure.
Because I did.
The jail interview room had thick glass between us.
Victor entered in an orange uniform.
For the first time since I met him, he looked small.
No expensive suit.
No house.
No family surrounding him.
No cane.
No locked doors.
Just a man in a chair.
He picked up the phone.
I did the same.
“You look good,” he said.
I said nothing.
“How’s the baby?”
“Why did Samantha know my name?”
His expression tightened.
Straight to the point.
He expected emotion.
I gave him none.
“My father chose you.”
“Raul?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your mother.”
My heart stuttered.
“My mother?”
Victor leaned toward the glass.
“Ask your father.”
“Tell me.”
He smiled.
“You think Thomas Ellison is the hero now?”
“Tell me.”
“Your mother’s family invested in one of my father’s companies years ago.”
I had never heard this.
“They discovered financial irregularities,” Victor continued. “Your father pushed for an investigation. Raul lost everything important.”
“That still doesn’t explain me.”
“Revenge.”
I stared at him.
“You married me for revenge?”
“At first?”
He shrugged.
“It was part of it.”
The casualness hurt more than anger would have.
“And the trust.”
“That too.”
“Did you ever love me?”
He paused.
For one second, I hated myself for asking.
Then he answered.
“In my way.”
I almost laughed.
“That isn’t love.”
“You don’t get to define what I felt.”
“I do when your version of love put me in a hospital.”
His face hardened.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“Your father’s daughter.”
For years, he had used that phrase as an insult.
Now I heard the fear beneath it.
I leaned closer.
“What happened to Samantha?”
His eyes changed.
“I didn’t kill her.”
“Did Raul?”
“No.”
“Keller?”
Victor looked toward the camera in the room.
He was calculating.
Always calculating.
“If I tell you, I want something.”
“No.”
“You came here because you want answers.”
“I came because I wanted to see whether you could tell the truth when lying no longer helps you.”
His jaw clenched.
I stood.
“Maya.”
I lowered the phone.
“Maya!”
I raised it again.
He leaned forward.
“Keller killed her.”
I waited.
“She fell during the argument. She was alive when I left.”
“Then what?”
“My father called Keller.”
“Why?”
“To scare her. Move her somewhere.”
“Did you know she died?”
His silence answered.
“When?”
“The next day.”
“And you said nothing.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
I stared at him.
“Be human.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Human beings protect themselves.”
“No, Victor. Cowards protect themselves by burying other people.”
His face twisted.
“Careful.”
The old threat.
I felt nothing.
That surprised both of us.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
He smiled.
“You will be.”
I stood again.
Then Victor said the sentence that made me stop.
“Your father knows your mother wasn’t an accident.”
I slowly turned.
“What?”
He smiled through the glass.
“Ask Thomas why your mother died.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“My mother died in a car crash.”
“That’s what they told you.”
I could hear my own heartbeat.
“What do you know?”
Victor sat back.
Now he had what he wanted.
My attention.
“My father kept files.”
“Where?”
“I want a deal.”
“No.”
“Then keep believing the bedtime story.”
I hung up.
But outside the jail, I called Dad.
He answered immediately.
“Maya?”
I didn’t say hello.
“Was Mom’s crash an accident?”
Silence.
That silence was enough.
“Dad?”
His voice broke.
“No.”
The sidewalk seemed to tilt beneath me.
“What happened?”
“I should have told you years ago.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Who killed her?”
Another pause.
Then:
“We never proved it.”
“Who did you suspect?”
May you like
My father whispered the name I already feared.
“Raul.”
