Chapter 19 - Ricardo’s Choice
Ricardo stood beneath my mother’s memorial.
That was where he chose to surrender.
Or die.
I still did not know which.
Police surrounded the building.
Snipers covered the entrances.
Employees had been evacuated.
I entered the lobby wearing a bulletproof vest under my coat.
Gabriel hated the plan.
Dad hated it more.
But Ricardo had information.
And twenty-two years of fear had already cost enough lives.
He stood thirty feet away.
Gray suit.
No tie.
A pistol hanging at his side.
He looked exhausted.
“Valeria.”
“Put the gun down.”
“I will.”
“Then do it.”
He smiled faintly.
“You sound like Arturo.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
I stopped.
“What do you want?”
“Protection.”
“Everyone wants protection after betraying us.”
He lowered his eyes.
“That’s fair.”
“Did you break into the financing file?”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring Camila?”
“Yes.”
“Did you leak my authorization page?”
“Yes.”
“Did you send the photograph?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“Who did?”
“Mariana.”
“She has people watching you.”
“Did you know Camila would find the blue box?”
“No.”
“Did you kill Mateo?”
His face collapsed.
“No.”
“Did you help hide his body?”
Silence.
That was worse.
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“He was your brother.”
“I was twenty-eight.”
“So?”
“They had my daughter.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Héctor took her.”
“She was three.”
“He sent me a photograph.”
“Mateo was already dead.”
“They told me if I went to police, my daughter would join him.”
His voice broke.
“I helped move the car.”
“Then I spent twenty-two years doing whatever they asked.”
“Why didn’t you tell my father?”
“Because every year, Mariana sent me another photograph of someone I loved.”
“My wife.”
“My daughter.”
“My grandchildren.”
“She never needed to threaten twice.”
I looked at the gun.
“And this week?”
“They told me to recover the blue box.”
“Why use Camila?”
“Because she had spent years looking for it.”
“You paid her.”
“Yes.”
“She thought I was helping expose the Montoyas.”
“You lied to her.”
“Yes.”
“Just like everyone else.”
Ricardo nodded.
“Yes.”
“What is Mariana planning now?”
He looked toward the windows.
“She knows the ownership records exist.”
“We have them.”
His face changed.
“That means she’s leaving.”
“For Madrid?”
“No.”
“She hasn’t been in Madrid for months.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where is she?”
“Mexico.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’re not useful.”
I turned.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
Ricardo lifted his empty hand.
“There is one thing you don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Mariana did not order the attack at the warehouse.”
“Who did?”
“Héctor.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“He came back three days ago.”
“Why?”
“To finish what started with Isabel.”
I forced myself to breathe.
“Meaning?”
“You.”
I looked at him.
“He wants me dead?”
“Not exactly.”
Ricardo laughed bitterly.
“He wants you blamed.”
“For what?”
“Arturo’s death.”
My blood turned to ice.
I touched the transmitter.
“Gabriel.”
No answer.
I tried again.
“Dad.”
Static.
Ricardo’s expression changed.
“You need to go.”
I ran.
Behind me, he placed the gun on the floor.
Police rushed him.
I did not stop.
I called Dad.
Nothing.
Alejandro.
Nothing.
Elena.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
His breathing was heavy.
“At home.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
I heard glass break.
Then a voice in the background.
Male.
Older.
Dad whispered.
“Héctor.”
The line cut.
I ran toward the entrance.
Gabriel intercepted me.
“What happened?”
“Héctor is at Dad’s house.”
Within seconds, three SUVs were moving.
I called Alejandro.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“With Mom.”
“Stay there.”
“What happened?”
“Héctor is at my father’s house.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Valeria.”
“Stay with Beatriz.”
A pause.
Then he said something I never expected.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No need to prove himself.
Just trust.
We reached Bosques de las Lomas eleven minutes later.
The front gates were open.
One guard lay injured near the driveway.
Alive.
The front door stood open.
I entered behind Gabriel.
The study was empty.
Broken glass.
Blood on the floor.
Not much.
Then I heard my father’s voice.
“Valeria.”
From the garden.
I ran.
Dad sat beside the fountain.
His forehead was bleeding.
Héctor Montoya stood behind him.
A pistol pressed against his shoulder.
Seventy-three years old.
White hair.
Perfect gray suit.
He looked like the chairman of a bank.
Not a murderer.
“Stop.”
Gabriel raised his weapon.
Héctor smiled.
“Put it down.”
Dad looked at me.
“Don’t.”
Héctor pressed the gun harder.
I raised my hands.
“What do you want?”
He laughed.
“After all this?”
“The same thing I wanted twenty-two years ago.”
“Control.”
“No.”
“Survival.”
“You killed my mother.”
“Mariana handled Isabel.”
“You financed it.”
“I solved problems.”
I stared at him.
“My mother was a problem?”
“She was an idealist.”
“So am I.”
“Yes.”
His smile disappeared.
“That is why we are here.”
Sirens approached in the distance.
Héctor looked toward the gate.
Then back at me.
“The documents.”
“They’re already with federal investigators.”
His expression changed.
For the first time, fear.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
Dad smiled through the blood.
“She learned from her mother.”
Héctor struck him with the pistol.
I stepped forward.
“Don’t touch him.”
“Then tell them to back away.”
Gabriel spoke quietly.
“Héctor.”
He ignored him.
“Valeria, you have one decision.”
He pointed the gun toward Dad.
“You can save your father.”
“Or save the truth.”
My mother’s letter flashed through my mind.
If you ever have to choose between protecting the family name and protecting the truth, choose the truth.
But she had never told me to sacrifice family.
Only lies.
I looked at Héctor.
“You made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You thought those were different choices.”
His eyes narrowed.
I lifted my phone.
The call was connected.
Federal investigators had been listening.
Héctor realized it one second too late.
He turned.
Dad dropped sideways.
Gabriel fired.
The shot hit Héctor’s shoulder.
His gun fell.
Security officers rushed him.
I reached Dad.
He was alive.
Bleeding.
Furious.
“Your mother would have hated that stunt.”
I laughed while crying.
“She married you.”
“She clearly tolerated bad judgment.”
I hugged him.
For the first time in twenty-two years, the man responsible for helping create the conspiracy around my mother’s death was in custody.
May you like
But Mariana was still free.
And everyone knew she had always been more dangerous than her brother.
