Chapter 7 - BEATRIZ’S FIRST LIE
Lucia’s video lasted forty-three minutes.
Nothing about it was simple.
Beatriz had betrayed Lucia.
That remained true.
But why?
Years before, Beatriz worked as a junior compliance consultant.
Javier discovered she had falsified part of her résumé.
Not criminal.
Embarrassing.
Enough to ruin her career at that stage.
He threatened exposure unless she redirected Lucia’s audit.
Beatriz did.
Then Javier kept the evidence.
More leverage followed.
A payment made through her account.
A forged memo bearing her signature.
By the time she wanted out, leaving meant becoming the visible criminal while Javier remained hidden.
Lucia discovered this.
That was why she told Beatriz:
“You’re afraid.”
But victimhood did not remain permanent innocence.
Lucia understood that too.
“She has choices,” Lucia said to the camera.
“She may still choose Javier.”
“She may choose herself.”
“Do not excuse what she does merely because he first controlled her.”
That mattered.
Five years later, Beatriz chose to marry me under false pretenses.
She chose to terrorize Isabella.
Javier’s coercion explained the beginning.
Not the end.
Lucia continued.
“Javier’s real objective isn’t money.”
That surprised me.
“He already has money.”
“His obsession is Navarro Meridian.”
Javier’s father once worked for mine.
A project manager.
Brilliant.
Ignored.
My father took public credit for developments Javier believed his father designed.
Whether that resentment was justified or not, Javier inherited it.
He joined my company young.
Helped build it.
Then came to believe half of everything should be his.
Lucia discovered private notes in which he referred to Navarro Meridian as:
the company Adrian inherited from men smarter than him.
I hadn’t inherited it.
I built it.
But resentment rarely needs accurate history.
Lucia’s final warning:
“Javier will eventually force you to choose between the company and Isabella.”
I paused the video.
Lucia stared frozen from the screen.
Five years after death, she knew exactly where his strategy led.
The next day, Javier disappeared.
Not internationally.
He stopped appearing publicly.
His attorney said he was cooperating with the independent audit.
Then forensic investigators found the first undeniable fraud.
A shell company in Luxembourg.
Beneficial owner:
Javier Márquez.
Transfers:
€11.8 million.
Lucia’s numbers were accurate.
My forged approvals were added later.
The board suspended Javier immediately.
He released a statement accusing me of manufacturing evidence found “conveniently” by my dead wife.
Then he attacked Lucia.
Said chemotherapy medication affected her judgment.
That made me furious.
But something unexpected happened.
Beatriz contradicted him.
Through counsel, she authenticated Lucia’s recordings.
Why?
Because Javier had stopped protecting her.
Fear-based loyalty had expired.
She gave investigators passwords.
Accounts.
Messages.
In exchange, prosecutors considered cooperation but promised nothing.
Good.
Beatriz asked to see Isabella.
No.
She asked to write.
I let the child therapist decide whether receiving anything was appropriate.
Isabella said:
“I don’t want it.”
End of discussion.
Then Beatriz told investigators something Javier never expected.
Lucia’s laptop contained only copies.
The original evidence archive was held by a person.
Alive.
Someone Lucia trusted more than any lawyer.
Carmen?
No.
Me?
Apparently not.
A retired accountant named Rafael Ortega.
I knew him.
He had been Navarro Meridian’s controller during the company’s first six years.
He disappeared from corporate life after a supposed disagreement with Javier.
I had accepted Javier’s explanation.
Again.
Loyalty.
Goodness.
I called Rafael.
An old voice answered.
“Adrian.”
He knew.
“Lucia told you?”
“She told me you would call one day.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because five years ago you believed Javier more than you believed numbers.”
The truth hurt.
“Do you have the originals?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“With my attorney.”
“What do they prove?”
Silence.
Then:
“Fraud.”
“Forgery.”
“Blackmail.”
“And one thing Lucia never managed to prove.”
“What?”
“That Javier tried to make her treatment fail.”
My blood turned cold.
“What does that mean?”
“Not poison.”
“Nothing like that.”
Rafael spoke carefully.
“He interfered with insurance authorizations.”
“Delayed access to an experimental treatment program.”
My hands began shaking.
“Why?”
“Lucia was investigating him.”
I closed my eyes.
“Would the treatment have saved her?”
“No one can know.”
That mattered.
We could not rewrite cancer into murder simply because Javier was cruel.
But if he delayed even one chance—
I felt sick.
Rafael continued.
“There’s documentation.”
“And Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“Why?”
“Javier has one final asset inside your company.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lucia did.”
A pause.
“She wrote the name in a red envelope.”
“Where?”
Rafael answered:
“Your office.”
I almost laughed.
“My office has been searched.”
“Not where she put it.”
“Where?”
“In the wall behind the photograph of Isabella.”
I drove to headquarters with investigators.
The photograph had hung behind my desk for eight years.
Isabella at age two.
Chocolate on her face.
Lucia laughing outside the frame.
Behind it was a narrow envelope.
Red.
Inside was one name.
My general counsel.
May you like
MARTÍN VEGA.
The man currently leading the independent investigation into Javier.
