Chương 8
Mariana stopped walking.
“Who called them?” she asked.
Evelyn looked at the cluster of local reporters and two entertainment bloggers. “Someone who wants you photographed leaving a protective-order hearing.”
Daniel emerged through another door with Nathan and Rosario. Reporters moved toward him.
He paused as if reluctantly, a man burdened by attention.
“I love my wife,” he said. “She is in pain, and I hope she receives the support she needs. I will not attack her publicly.”
Mariana felt the sentence enter the air and reorganize everyone around it.
A reporter called her name.
Evelyn touched her elbow. “Keep moving.”
Mariana did.
The photographs showed her leaving without comment, face strained, arm in a sling. By evening, captions described Daniel as restrained and Mariana as “silent amid concerns.”
Claudia called that night.
“I didn’t tell the press.”
Mariana sat on the edge of her bed while Teresa attempted to detangle the clasp of the sling cover for washing.
“I didn’t ask.”
“I know you think I did.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You usually know.”
Claudia was quiet.
Mariana could hear traffic through the phone and the repeated click of a turn signal.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In my car.”
“Driving?”
“Parked.”
“Where?”
“Outside Daniel’s hotel.”
Teresa stopped working on the clasp.
“Why?”
“He asked me to bring him something.”
“The envelope?”
“No. He thinks I took it.”
Mariana looked at Evelyn, who was seated across the room reviewing documents. Evelyn held out her hand for the phone. Mariana shook her head.
“What does he want?”
“The old tablet from Mother’s house.”
“What’s on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Claudia.”
“I don’t.”
The words came too quickly.
Mariana closed her eyes. “Do not go inside.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“No. I don’t. But he gave you one job at my house, and you failed. Now he wants something else. Ask yourself why he cannot get it himself.”
Claudia breathed against the receiver.
“He says you’re trying to put him in prison.”
“I’m trying to find out what he did.”
“What if those are the same thing?”
The question sounded less like a defense of Daniel than fear for herself.
“What did you do?” Mariana asked.
Claudia did not answer.
A car horn sounded in the distance.
“Claudia.”
“I introduced him to someone.”
“Who?”
“A notary.”
Evelyn stood.
Mariana put the call on speaker.
Claudia continued, words uneven now. “Not for the house. He said it was for foundation papers. She does mobile appointments. She came to Mother’s place twice.”
“Did I sign anything in front of her?”
“No.”
“Did she notarize my signature?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Daniel said it was already signed.”
Mariana’s injured arm pulsed beneath the sling.
“When?”
“The first time was in March. The second was the week before you fell.”
Evelyn took the phone.
“Claudia, listen carefully. Do not enter the hotel. Do not bring Daniel any device. Send me the notary’s name and contact information now. Then go somewhere safe.”
Daniel appeared outside the hotel before Claudia could answer.
Mariana heard her inhale.
“He sees me.”
“Lock your doors,” Evelyn said.
“He’s walking over.”
“Start the car.”
“I can’t just leave.”
“You can.”
A knock sounded through the call.
“Claudia,” Daniel said faintly. “Open the door.”
She whispered, “He knows I’m talking to you.”
The knocking came again, harder.
Evelyn’s voice remained controlled. “Drive away.”
Claudia started the engine.
Daniel pulled the passenger handle.
“Claudia.”
The car moved. A horn blared. Claudia cursed, then began crying in short, angry breaths.
“Go to a public place,” Evelyn said. “A police station if you believe he’s following.”
“He’s not following.”
“Do not assume that.”
“I can see him in the mirror.”
Mariana imagined Daniel standing in the hotel driveway, one hand still raised, watching his sister carry away whatever loyalty remained between them.
Claudia drove to a twenty-four-hour pharmacy and parked beneath bright lights.
She sent the notary’s name.
The woman, Pamela Voss, did not answer that night. By morning, her voicemail was full.
The foundation’s bank records arrived through expedited legal process two days later. They showed that Daniel had applied for a six-million-dollar line of credit through a private lender. The proposed collateral package included Las Lomas, projected foundation donations, and an investment account held solely in Mariana’s name.
The application bore notarized signatures.
Pamela Voss’s seal appeared on three pages.
The lender had not yet funded the full amount, but it had advanced nine hundred thousand dollars against a personal guarantee from Daniel and an anticipated property lien.
Most of the money was gone.
Two hundred thousand had gone to a luxury real-estate holding company.
One hundred fifty thousand to a private club debt.
Nearly four hundred thousand to an entity controlled by Rosario.
The remainder had been transferred among accounts too quickly for the first set of records to explain.
Mariana sat in Evelyn’s conference room staring at the number attached to Rosario’s name.
“Why would she need four hundred thousand dollars?”
Claudia, seated at the far end of the table, answered.
“Because she mortgaged her house twice.”
Everyone looked at her.
She had arrived wearing jeans, a gray sweater, and sunglasses despite the cloudy morning. Without the dark dress and styled hair, she looked exhausted. She removed the glasses.
“Mother lost money,” she said. “A lot. She invested with a man from the club. Daniel tried to cover it.”
“How long have you known?” Mariana asked.
“That she lost money? Almost a year. About the loan application, not until last month.”
“And you said nothing.”
Claudia flinched. “You weren’t exactly easy to talk to.”
Mariana almost laughed at the cruelty of the excuse.
“I lived in the same house.”
“You lived behind Daniel.”
“So did you.”
The two women stared at each other.
May you like
Evelyn interrupted before the argument could become useless. “Why was Daniel borrowing six million dollars to cover four hundred thousand?”
Claudia rubbed her eyes. “Because the four hundred was only one problem.”
