Chapter 7: The Moment Mateo Thought He Won
Mateo moved fast.
By noon, he had a lawyer at the hospital — not Sergio Banda, someone newer, someone whose name would not raise questions.
By 1 p.m., he had filed a request with the hospital administration to restrict Camila's visitors to immediate family only, citing her mental health history and the need for a calm recovery environment.
By 2 p.m., Alejandro received a formal letter — hand-delivered to his office — informing him that he was not permitted on hospital grounds to visit Camila Reyes, and that any attempt to contact her would be considered harassment.
He read the letter at his desk.
Set it down.
Picked up his phone.
"Get me Dr.
Fuentes directly," he said to his assistant.
"Not the hospital switchboard.
Her personal line."
Dr.
Fuentes called back in eleven minutes.
"I heard about the visitor restriction," she said, before Alejandro could speak.
"Is it legally enforceable?"
"It's a request, not a court order.
I can't stop him from filing paperwork.
But Camila is my patient.
And when she wakes up — which should be within the next few hours — she has the right to request her own visitors." A pause.
"I'll be in the room when she does."
"Thank you."
"Mr.
Alejandro." Dr.
Fuentes's voice dropped slightly.
"She was conscious for about ninety seconds before surgery.
She was frightened.
Not of the fall.
She was frightened of something else." A beat.
"I've been doing this for nineteen years.
I know the difference."
The call ended.
Alejandro looked at the USB drive on his desk.
His tech team had already copied the contents — financial records, wire transfers, a series of emails between Mateo and Sergio Banda going back twenty-two months.
The emails were careful, written in the kind of language that tried to be clean without quite succeeding.
Words like *restructuring* and *asset protection* and *contingency planning* that meant something very different when you read them in sequence.
The final email in the chain was dated six weeks ago.
*The timeline needs to move up.
She's getting suspicious.
After the birth is too long to wait.
Banda.*
Mateo's reply was three words.
*Agreed.
Handle it.*
Alejandro sat with that for a long moment.
Then he called his attorney.
"I need you to file an emergency protective order," he said.
"And I need you to contact the financial crimes unit at the federal prosecutor's office.
Tonight if possible."
"On what grounds?"
"Conspiracy.
Fraud.
And I think, when they look closely enough—" Alejandro paused.
"Attempted harm to a pregnant woman."
His attorney was quiet for a moment.
"That's a serious allegation."
"I have the emails.
I have the financial records.
I have gate access logs showing someone ensured she couldn't get help after she fell." Alejandro looked at the photograph on his desk — Mateo and Valeria outside the lawyer's office, comfortable and certain.
"And I have a letter in her own handwriting saying she was afraid of him."
"Send me everything."
"It's already on its way."
He hung up.
At 4:17 p.m., Mateo walked into Alejandro's office building.
He hadn't called ahead.
He walked past the reception desk with the authority of a man who had never been stopped anywhere in his life, rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor, and pushed open the glass door to Alejandro's suite.
Alejandro's assistant stood up.
"Sir, you can't—"
"It's all right," Alejandro said from his desk.
"Let him in."
Mateo closed the door behind him.
He looked at the desk — the USB drive, the photograph, the open files.
His jaw worked once.
"I'll give you whatever you want," he said.
"Name it."
Alejandro leaned back in his chair.
"I don't want anything from you."
"Everyone wants something." Mateo spread his hands.
"Money.
A contract.
A partnership.
I can make things very good for you, Alejandro.
We used to be friends.
We can be again."
"We stopped being friends the day you told Camila she wasn't allowed to speak to me.
Because you couldn't stand that she trusted me more than she trusted you."
Mateo's expression flickered.
"She was always too attached to you.
Even before we married."
"She called me because she had no one else.
Because you made sure of that." Alejandro stood up slowly.
"You spent five years cutting her off from everyone who cared about her.
And then you left her alone in that house, and someone made sure she couldn't get out."
"That is not what happened."
"The emails say otherwise." Alejandro picked up a single printed page from the desk and held it out.
"Banda's last message to you.
And your reply."
Mateo looked at the page.
He didn't take it.
For the first time since he had walked in, he looked uncertain.
Not guilty — Mateo was too practiced for guilt — but uncertain, which was something Alejandro had never seen on his face before.
"Those words can mean anything," Mateo said.
"Any lawyer will tell you that."
"Then you have nothing to worry about." Alejandro set the page back down.
"The federal prosecutor's office will make that determination."
Mateo went very still.
"You already filed."
"Two hours ago."
The silence in the room was absolute.
Then Mateo straightened.
Something cold and final settled into his expression — the look of a man who had just decided to stop pretending.
"You've wanted to destroy me for years," he said.
"This is just your opportunity."
"No," Alejandro said.
"This is your opportunity.
To walk out of here, go to that hospital, and sit with your son.
To make one decision in your life that is not about money or control or what you think you're owed." He looked at Mateo steadily.
"But I don't think you're going to take it."
Mateo picked up his jacket from the chair where he'd dropped it.
"When this falls apart," he said, "and it will — I'll remember this conversation."
He walked to the door.
"Mateo." Alejandro's voice stopped him at the threshold.
"Valeria's access code.
The second call at 3:14 a.m.
— checking that the gate was still locked." He paused.
"Was that her idea, or yours?"
Mateo did not turn around.
He walked out.
The glass door swung shut behind him.
Alejandro looked at the closed door for a moment.
Then he picked up his phone and called Tomás.
May you like
"He's leaving the building now.
Don't lose him."
