Chương 4
Mariana searched the phone for independent family and estate attorneys. She rejected the first three because their websites displayed too many photographs of men leaning over conference tables. The fourth, Camila Ortega, had a plain page, an office near the civil courthouse, and a note that emergency consultations were available.
Mariana called.
Camila answered on the fifth ring, sounding as if she had been awake for hours.
Mariana described the trust papers, the slap, the children, and the threat.
She did not mention where she was until Camila asked.
There was a pause.
“Are you there voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Can you leave?”
Mariana looked toward Adrián.
He took a key ring from his pocket and set it on the table between them.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Do not sign anything. Do not post online. Do not let the children speak to reporters. Send me photographs of the mark on your face, then take more in daylight. If you need medical care, get it. Is there a police report?”
“No.”
“Do you want one?”
Mariana hesitated.
Filing a report against Beatriz would be more than a record. It would be a declaration that the family’s private rules no longer applied.
“I don’t know.”
“That is fine for the next hour,” Camila said. “It will not be fine forever.”
They arranged to meet at ten.
By nine, photographs from the dinner had appeared online.
None showed the slap. One showed Adrián leading Mariana and the girls through the rain. His hand was at Mariana’s back, though in reality he had only been directing her around a puddle. In the photograph, the gesture looked intimate and possessive.
The caption called Mariana Javier Alcázar’s “troubled widow.”
Another account claimed Adrián had disrupted a private family gathering and removed three minor children.
Beatriz released no statement.
She did not need to. The absence was deliberate enough to become one.
At the school, the director spoke in a hushed voice.
“We are concerned about security.”
“My daughters are students, not security issues.”
“Of course. No one is suggesting otherwise.”
“You just did.”
The woman cleared her throat. “Until the situation stabilizes, perhaps remote assignments would be less disruptive.”
“To whom?”
Another pause.
Mariana could picture the woman’s office, the framed diplomas, the bowl of hard candy no child was allowed to touch without permission.
“We care deeply about Renata, Emilia, and Lucía.”
“Then expect them Monday.”
She ended the call before her voice broke.
Adrián leaned against the kitchen counter.
“You should not return to that school without security.”
“They have attended for three years.”
“Yesterday, Beatriz controlled who approached them. Today, she does not.”
“I thought you withdrew your protection from her.”
“I did.”
“Then why does that make us less safe?”
“Because there are people who respected the boundary around her house only because I drew it.”
Mariana stood so quickly the chair legs scraped the floor.
“You protected her.”
“I protected an arrangement.”
“You protected her.”
“Yes.”
“And now I am supposed to be grateful that you stopped?”
“No.”
His refusal to defend himself made anger difficult to aim.
She picked up the borrowed phone.
“I need clothes for the girls. Medication for Emilia. Lucía’s rabbit. School documents. Javier’s papers.”
“Diego will arrange an escorted collection.”
“I am going.”
Adrián straightened.
“No.”
The word came too easily to him.
Mariana walked closer until only the kitchen table separated them.
“You do not get to remove me from one house and make decisions for me in another.”
His jaw shifted.
“Beatriz is angry.”
“She has been angry since I gave birth to Renata.”
“She may be more than angry now.”
“So may I.”
Teresa, slicing an apple at the counter, murmured, “That one is also a point.”
Adrián looked at Diego, who had entered without anyone noticing.
“Take six men.”
Mariana shook her head. “Two.”
“Four.”
“Two, and they stay outside unless needed.”
“Three.”
“Does every conversation with you become a negotiation?”
“Only the ones in which the other person is unreasonable.”
Teresa put down the knife. “I would enjoy having that engraved on your grave.”
They settled on Diego and two men.
Camila Ortega met Mariana outside the mansion at eleven thirty. She wore navy trousers, low heels, and an expression that suggested she had already found three procedural problems before leaving her car.
She photographed the open gate, the security vehicles, and the clock on her phone.
“Documentation,” she said. “People become more honest when they suspect they are being timed.”
Esteban waited in the entrance hall.
He was in his late fifties, silver-haired, softly spoken, and so closely associated with the Alcázars that Mariana had once assumed he was a relative. He had handled Javier’s will, Javier’s funeral, and every monthly transfer Mariana received afterward. He had also drafted the papers Beatriz tried to force her to sign.
His gaze moved over the bruise on her cheek.
“This has become unfortunate.”
Camila handed him a card. “Physical assault was unfortunate before it became visible.”
“I was not speaking to you.”
“You are now.”
Esteban looked past her at Diego.
“Mr. Valdés’s presence confirms our concerns.”
Diego stood outside the open door, precisely where Mariana had told him to remain.
“He is not inside,” Mariana said.
“His influence is.”
“So is Beatriz’s. I do not hear you objecting.”
Esteban clasped his hands. “You have one hour to collect personal clothing and the children’s immediate necessities. Estate property remains under review.”
“This was my home.”
“This is a company residence held by an Alcázar entity.”
Camila lifted her phone. “Which entity?”
“I will provide the documentation.”
“Today?”
“When appropriate.”
“Then do not use it as authority today.”
For the first time, Esteban’s mildness tightened.
Mariana walked upstairs.
May you like
Her bedroom had been searched.
The disturbance was subtle. Beatriz’s staff did not leave drawers open or cushions overturned. They returned everything almost to its place. But Javier’s photograph had shifted half an inch on the bedside table, and the bottom drawer of the wardrobe no longer caught on the left hinge.
