Chapter 3 - THE FAMILY BUSINESS

The theft went back eighteen months.

Not three months.

Not six.

Eighteen.

Daniel had started small.

Restaurant charges.

Hotel bills.

Electronics.

Then cash withdrawals.

Then transfers.

Every time I worked late, traveled for campaigns, or trusted him to handle household expenses, he took a little more.

By the time Laura finished totaling it, my hands had gone numb.

“1.8 million pesos,” she said.

I stared at the spreadsheet.

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s documented.”

“What did he spend it on?”

Laura turned the laptop toward me.

“Some went to his mother.”

“Of course.”

“Some went to Valeria.”

I nodded bitterly.

“Of course.”

“And some went to a company called DVA Consulting.”

“What is that?”

“We’re checking.”

My phone rang.

Carmen.

This time, I answered.

She didn’t say hello.

“How dare you humiliate us?”

I almost admired the confidence.

“You locked my child outside.”

“That girl needs discipline.”

“Her name is Camila.”

“She is my granddaughter.”

“Then why is she underweight?”

Silence.

“You’re making accusations.”

“I’m asking a question.”

“You work all the time. Someone has to raise her.”

“I paid you 35,000 pesos every month.”

“And it wasn’t enough.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“No, Carmen. I paid the rent. Utilities. Groceries. Housekeeping. Medication. Your vacations. Valeria’s shopping. Daniel’s cards.”

Her voice hardened.

“You think money makes you important?”

“No.”

I looked at Camila asleep beside me.

“But apparently not having mine is making you nervous.”

“You are destroying this family.”

“No. I stopped financing it.”

“You think Daniel will let you take Camila?”

There it was.

The threat.

I sat straighter.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again.”

“You barely see your daughter. Daniel can prove that.”

I glanced at Laura.

She immediately started writing.

Carmen continued.

“You travel. You work late. You leave Camila with me.”

“Because you told me she was safe.”

“Courts care about facts, Mariana.”

“So do I.”

I ended the call.

Laura looked impressed.

“That was useful.”

“She threatened custody.”

“She also admitted she was Camila’s primary caregiver while you were working.”

“So?”

“So if we prove neglect happened while Camila was under her care, it damages their argument.”

My stomach twisted.

I hated hearing my daughter reduced to evidence.

But Daniel had chosen this.

Not me.

That afternoon, we returned to the apartment with two security officers and a court-approved inventory request.

Daniel stood in the doorway.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Move.”

“You brought lawyers to our home?”

“My home.”

His jaw tightened.

“Our home.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have forged my signature while living in it.”

His face changed.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

Fear.

Laura saw it too.

We entered.

The dining table had been cleared.

The lobster shells were gone.

The wine bottles had disappeared.

But something else was missing.

My home office laptop.

I walked into the room.

The desk was empty.

“Daniel.”

He leaned against the doorframe.

“What?”

“Where’s my laptop?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was here yesterday.”

“Maybe you moved it.”

“You stole it.”

“Prove it.”

I stepped closer.

For the first time, his arrogance slipped.

Then a voice came from behind us.

Valeria.

“You mean the black laptop?”

Daniel spun around.

“Valeria, shut up.”

She froze.

I looked at her.

“Where is it?”

Daniel shouted,

“Do not answer her.”

And that was when I knew.

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