Chapter 6: The Blue Drawer
The mansion felt different in daylight.
Alejandro had been inside it only once before, years ago, when Mateo had first bought it and thrown a party to make sure everyone knew.
He remembered thinking even then that it was a house built for performance — too large, too polished, designed to be looked at rather than lived in.
Now, in the thin morning light, with the gate cut open and a scuff mark still visible on the marble floor at the base of the staircase, it felt like a stage that had finally gone dark.
His security lead, Tomás, met him at the door.
"We haven't touched anything past the entry hall," Tomás said.
"The way you asked."
"Good." Alejandro looked at the staircase.
The bottom three steps were still marked where Camila had fallen — a faint smear on the marble, a small crack in the baseboard where her phone had hit.
"Has anyone else been here this morning?"
"One car came to the gate about forty minutes ago.
Didn't have the code — the lock's cut, so it didn't matter.
They drove away when they saw us."
"Plates?"
Tomás handed him a photo from his phone.
A silver sedan.
Alejandro looked at it for three seconds, then handed it back.
"Run it."
He walked up the staircase carefully, staying to the right side, and found the study on the second floor at the end of the hall.
It was a small room — bookshelves, a writing desk, a window overlooking the garden.
It smelled like the perfume Camila had worn for as long as he could remember.
Something soft and clean that had no business being in this house.
The blue drawer was the second one down on the left side of the desk.
It was unlocked.
Inside was a single envelope, sealed, with his name written on the front in Camila's handwriting.
*Alejandro.*
He stood there for a moment without picking it up.
Then he did.
Inside were three things.
A folded letter in Camila's hand.
A USB drive.
And a photograph — printed, not digital — of Mateo and Valeria together.
Not at a club.
Not somewhere that could be explained away.
They were standing outside a lawyer's office in Monterrey, and Valeria was holding a document, and Mateo's hand was on her back, and they were both looking at the camera with the comfortable ease of two people who had been doing this for a very long time.
The date stamp on the photograph was from fourteen months ago.
Three months before Camila became pregnant.
Alejandro unfolded the letter.
*If you are reading this, something has happened to me.
I need you to know that I did not imagine any of it.
The documents on the drive will explain everything.
Mateo has been moving money out of our joint accounts for two years.
He changed the beneficiary on his life insurance policy eight months ago.
He changed it to Valeria.
I found the paperwork by accident.
I confronted him.
He told me I was confused.
He told me I was hormonal.
He told me I was losing my mind.*
*I am not losing my mind.*
*I am eight months pregnant and I am afraid of my husband and I did not know who else to trust with this.*
*Please protect my son.*
Alejandro folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope.
He put the envelope in his jacket pocket, next to his phone.
Then his phone rang.
It was Mateo.
Alejandro looked at the screen.
Looked at the blue drawer, still open.
He answered.
"Are you in my house?" Mateo's voice was tight, stripped of all its earlier performance.
"I am."
"I told you to stay out."
"Camila asked me to come.
I'm honoring her request."
"She's unconscious.
She can't ask you anything."
"She asked before she went under.
Dr.
Fuentes passed on the message." Alejandro walked to the window and looked out at the garden.
"I found what she left for me."
The silence was long and very specific.
"Whatever she told you, whatever she wrote — she wasn't well, Alejandro.
The pregnancy was hard on her mentally.
She started seeing things that weren't there.
Making accusations.
I was going to get her help after the baby came."
"The insurance policy change is dated eight months ago," Alejandro said.
"That's a document.
Not an accusation."
Another silence.
"I want you out of my house.
Now.
Or I call the police."
"Call them," Alejandro said.
"I'll be here."
The line went d*ad.
Alejandro stood at the window for a moment longer.
Then Tomás appeared in the doorway.
"The plates came back.
That car this morning?"
"Yes."
"Registered to a holding company.
But the holding company's registered agent is a lawyer named Sergio Banda." Tomás paused.
"He's Mateo's corporate attorney."
May you like
Alejandro turned from the window.
"Get me everything we have on Sergio Banda by this afternoon."
