Chương 7
“That’s a generous way to put it.”
Celia ignored her.
“He would say he needed one more document, one more conversation, one more tax review.”
Estelle’s mouth pulled tight.
“That sounds like him.”
The bitterness in her voice was small and devastating.
Leandro looked at his mother.
She did not meet his eyes.
For decades, she had defended a man who was now becoming less recognizable by the minute.
The dead were supposed to become simpler.
Her husband was doing the opposite.
Daphne moved toward a side table and poured water into a glass.
Nobody had asked her to.
She brought it to Estelle anyway.
Estelle took it with both hands.
“Thank you.”
Daphne nodded.
Her face remained carefully neutral.
Leandro noticed.
“You can go home.”
Daphne looked at Estelle.
Estelle said, “She stays if she wants.”
Maribel gave a quiet scoff.
Daphne turned toward her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, go ahead.”
Maribel looked at the housekeeper for a long moment.
“I was going to say this is family business.”
Daphne’s mouth tightened.
“You made it staff business when you pulled her to the floor in front of me.”
Maribel’s jaw hardened.
Daphne immediately looked as if she regretted the boldness but not the words.
Estelle touched her wrist.
“She stays.”
Leandro nodded.
Maribel looked away.
Celia removed her coat and laid it over the back of a chair.
She wore a plain navy blouse beneath it, sleeves wrinkled at the elbows.
The ordinariness of her clothing made the ballroom look even more absurd.
“Can we sit somewhere less ceremonial?” she asked.
No one objected.
They moved into the library.
Leandro carried the folder.
Arthur followed.
Daphne helped Estelle, though Estelle insisted on walking without leaning on her.
Maribel came last.
Before leaving the ballroom, she stopped beside the gilded chair.
The silver chain still lay on the marble.
She stared at it.
Then she bent, picked it up, and placed it neatly on the seat.
Nobody thanked her.
The library had lower ceilings, dark wood, and lamps that made everyone look more human.
Leandro closed the doors.
Arthur immediately took out his phone.
“I’m calling trust counsel.”
“No,” Leandro said.
Arthur looked up.
“We need counsel.”
“We need facts first.”
“We need both.”
Maribel sank into an armchair.
“For once, Arthur is right.”
Leandro looked at her.
“You don’t get a vote right now.”
Her expression hardened.
Estelle said, “He’s angry.”
“I noticed.”
Leandro turned.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You’re defending her now?”
“No.”
Estelle set the untouched water on a side table.
“I’m defending the idea that angry people still need useful information.”
Leandro looked away.
Arthur cleared his throat.
“I can call Martin and simply ask him to stand by.”
Leandro nodded.
“Fine.”
Arthur stepped into a corner and dialed.
Celia sat on the edge of the sofa.
Maribel remained in the armchair opposite her.
They looked like two women waiting for a train neither wanted to board.
Leandro stood between them.
“Start with the account.”
Celia nodded.
“Your father opened it twenty-five years ago.”
“For Alina.”
“Initially.”
“What changed?”
Celia hesitated.
“He began using it as a general reserve for obligations he didn’t want visible in household or company records.”
Estelle stared at her.
“What kind of obligations?”
“Private ones.”
“That is not an answer.”
Celia looked at her.
“School tuition for Alina.”
Estelle’s mouth tightened.
“Medical expenses for her mother.”
A pause.
“Legal fees.”
“For what?”
Celia looked down.
“An accident.”
Leandro frowned.
“What accident?”
“Alina’s mother was driving.”
Maribel’s face changed.
Celia saw it.
“You know this part.”
Maribel nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Estelle looked between them.
“What happened?”
Celia took a breath.
“There was a collision.”
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Yes.”
Leandro’s voice lowered.
“Who?”
“A man on a motorcycle.”
The room went quiet.
Arthur stopped speaking into his phone.
“Did he die?”
Celia shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why the legal fees?”
“Because there were questions about whether she had been drinking.”
Estelle closed her eyes.
Leandro looked at Celia.
“Was she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You handled the money.”
“I handled instructions.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Celia looked at him.
“I never saw a police report.”
Maribel shifted in her chair.
“You saw enough.”
Celia’s face hardened.
“I saw your father pay for attorneys.”
“And the settlement.”
“Yes.”
Estelle’s hands clenched in her lap.
“He used family money?”
Celia shook her head.
“His personal funds.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Estelle looked away.
Leandro paced once across the rug.
“So my father was supporting another family, paying legal fees, promising houses, and hiding all of it.”
Celia said nothing.
Maribel did.
“He was trying to prevent two families from destroying each other.”
Leandro stopped.
“You really believe that?”
Maribel’s expression was tired.
“I believe he believed it.”
Estelle gave a bitter little laugh.
“That sounds exactly like the sort of sentence a guilty man would enjoy.”
Maribel looked at her.
For once, there was no retaliation.
Leandro sat on the edge of the desk.
“What did Alina’s mother know about us?”
Celia answered.
“Everything.”
“And my mother?”
Estelle looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“What did she know about my mother?”
“She knew Estelle existed.”
Estelle stared at the floor.
Daphne shifted beside her.
Leandro asked, “Did she ever contact this house?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Celia hesitated.
“Your father paid her not to.”
Estelle laughed.
This time it sounded almost like choking.
Daphne reached for her.
Estelle waved her off.
“I’m fine.”
Nobody believed her.
She looked at Celia.
“How much?”
“Estelle.”
“How much?”
Celia’s voice softened.
“I don’t think the number will help.”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
Celia looked down.
“Two hundred thousand initially.”
Estelle nodded.
Her face stayed strangely calm.
“And after?”
“Monthly support.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“For how long?”
“Until she died.”
Estelle’s head lifted.
“When did she die?”
“Seven years ago.”
The answer hit Leandro too.
His father had been alive then.
May you like
He looked at Maribel.
“Were you involved by that point?”
