Chapter 11 - The Blue Box
The warehouse smelled like rust and rain.
I entered alone.
At least, that was what Camila was supposed to believe.
Gabriel’s team was positioned three blocks away.
A tracking device sat inside my jacket.
My phone transmitted audio continuously.
Dad hated every second of it.
Alejandro hated it too.
I had stopped caring what either man hated.
I crossed the empty concrete floor.
“Camila?”
My voice echoed.
A metal door opened above me.
She appeared on a narrow staircase.
No burgundy dress.
No diamonds.
No perfect hair.
Jeans.
Black sweater.
Hair tied back.
For the first time, she looked tired.
Human.
She carried the blue box.
“Stop there.”
I did.
“You came alone.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You always were a terrible liar.”
“So were you.”
That erased the smile.
She walked downstairs.
The diamond bracelet still circled her wrist.
I looked at it.
She noticed.
“Alejandro gave it to me.”
“I know.”
“Do you want it back?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She removed it anyway.
Then dropped it onto the floor.
The diamonds struck concrete.
“I never liked it.”
I stared at her.
“That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“Nothing I say will make you feel better.”
“That might be the first honest thing you’ve said.”
She set the blue box on a wooden table.
“Open it.”
I hesitated.
“If I wanted you dead, Valeria, I had easier chances.”
I stepped forward.
Inside lay the documents from the photograph.
The cassette.
The envelope.
My mother’s handwriting.
I reached for it.
Camila closed the box.
“Not yet.”
I looked at her.
“You invited me.”
“I need something first.”
“Of course.”
“I need protection.”
“For you?”
“For my father.”
Esteban Cruz.
“He’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I won’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because Arturo has spent twenty-two years hunting him.”
“My father believed your father knew who killed my mother.”
“He did.”
“Then why hide?”
“Because the killers believed the same thing.”
I stared at her.
“Who is M.C.?”
Camila looked toward the dark windows.
“You already met her.”
My skin tightened.
“When?”
“She came to your wedding.”
I searched my memory.
Hundreds of people.
Business families.
Politicians.
Friends of Federico.
Friends of Beatriz.
“Who?”
Camila shook her head.
“Protection first.”
“You broke into my company.”
“Ricardo brought me inside.”
“You leaked confidential information.”
“Yes.”
“You leaked photographs of me.”
“Yes.”
“You slept with my husband.”
Her expression changed.
That one mattered.
“Yes.”
“Was that part of Ricardo’s plan?”
“At first.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“At first?”
“I was supposed to get close to Alejandro.”
“Learn what Federico had left him.”
“Find out whether the De la Vega family still had the box.”
“Then why the affair?”
“He was lonely.”
I laughed.
“He was married.”
“I know.”
“You knew me.”
“Barely.”
“That didn’t stop you.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you love him?”
Camila stared at me.
“I wanted to.”
That answer surprised me.
“I spent my entire childhood being moved from one relative to another.”
“My father disappeared.”
“My mother vanished.”
“Everyone told me she abandoned me.”
“When I was seventeen, a stranger gave me a photograph of my mother with Federico and Isabel.”
“Years later, Ricardo found me.”
“He told me your family destroyed mine.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“He introduced me to Alejandro.”
Her voice softened.
“I thought using him would be easy.”
“It was.”
I hated how much that hurt.
Camila continued.
“But Alejandro talked about you.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently not kindly.”
“He complained about you.”
“He said you didn’t understand him.”
“He said you were satisfied with a small life.”
“Then one night, he got drunk and said something strange.”
“What?”
“He said you never seemed impressed by money.”
My stomach tightened.
“He said you could walk through luxury stores without looking at prices but rarely bought anything.”
“He said you knew executives he had never introduced you to.”
“I started wondering.”
“So you investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“When did you discover Arturo was my father?”
“Four months ago.”
Alejandro had cheated for eleven months.
Camila had learned my identity only four months earlier.
“Did Ricardo know?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“He believed you were irrelevant.”
I almost smiled.
Apparently Alejandro and Ricardo had shared that mistake.
“When I told him, everything changed,” Camila said.
“He became obsessed with forcing you off the committee.”
“Why?”
“Because the De la Vega project was never the real investment.”
“What was?”
She opened the box again.
Then removed a map.
The technology complex.
Hundreds of acres north of Mexico City.
One section was circled.
Sector Twelve.
“What is this?”
“Land.”
“I can see that.”
“Land under which Grupo Vanguardia buried evidence twenty-two years ago.”
I stared at her.
“That site wasn’t owned by Vanguardia then.”
“Not officially.”
“What evidence?”
“My mother’s files.”
“Why would they be buried there?”
“Because the property belonged to a shell company controlled by Ricardo’s family.”
My heart accelerated.
“The De la Vegas bought the land.”
“Yes.”
“And now Ricardo wants Vanguardia to finance construction on top of it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To control the excavation.”
I understood.
The project’s debt crisis was not an accident.
If Ricardo or whoever controlled him could force Vanguardia into the financing, they could influence contractors.
Construction schedules.
Soil removal.
Everything.
“What is under Sector Twelve?”
Camila looked at me.
“My mother.”
I stopped breathing.
“I think Lucía Serrano is buried there.”
The warehouse became silent.
May you like
Then Camila said the words that changed everything again.
“And I think your mother’s missing briefcase is buried with her.”
