Chapter 5 - The Anonymous Report
I showed Daniel the message.
His expression hardened.
Paulina looked between us.
“What is that?”
“Proof that this report isn’t anonymous,” I said.
I handed her the phone.
She read the message twice.
Then she took a picture of it.
“I’ll document this.”
“Document it?” Daniel snapped. “Someone is threatening to take our daughter.”
Paulina’s mouth tightened.
“I’m not your enemy.”
“You walked in here questioning whether my wife neglected a child who had coffee thrown at her.”
“And I’m required to investigate every report.”
Sofia whimpered in her sleep.
All three of us looked toward her.
Paulina lowered her clipboard.
“Who has access to information about her discharge?”
“The hospital,” I said. “Us. Daniel’s family.”
“Any attorneys involved?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
Not yet.
By noon, the hospital approved Sofia’s discharge for the following morning.
The doctor gave us wound-care instructions, medication schedules, and a referral to a burn specialist.
I wrote everything down.
Then I wrote it again because my first notes didn’t make sense.
Daniel watched me.
“You haven’t slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I slept for twenty minutes.”
“That wasn’t sleep. You passed out in a chair.”
He almost smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
That afternoon, Lucía called.
“We found traces of coffee on the courtyard wall.”
“Is that enough?”
“Not alone.”
“What about the cup?”
“Gone.”
“Of course.”
“And your sister-in-law has hired an attorney.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Who?”
“Esteban Ríos.”
He stopped moving.
I knew that name.
Everyone in Guadalajara did.
Ríos defended politicians, businessmen, and wealthy families who needed ugly things turned into misunderstandings.
“How did Mariela afford him?” I asked.
Daniel’s eyes shifted toward me.
“My father.”
Lucía continued.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your father filed a complaint claiming you stole proprietary business data from his home.”
Daniel laughed.
“The backup drive.”
“He’s describing it as a company archive.”
“It contains security footage.”
“He says otherwise.”
After the call, Daniel paced beside the window.
“They’re trying to turn me into a thief.”
“They’re trying to bury the footage.”
He stopped.
“What if my mother didn’t keep the drive?”
“What do you mean?”
“She may have passed it to someone before the police searched her.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Mariela’s husband.”
Javier had barely spoken during family gatherings.
He worked in accounting for Ricardo’s construction company.
Quiet.
Polite.
Always looking at the floor when Mariela insulted someone.
Daniel called him.
No answer.
He called again.
The third time, Javier picked up.
“You need to stop calling.”
“Do you have the drive?”
Silence.
“Javier.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Your wife burned my daughter.”
Javier breathed heavily into the phone.
“I know.”
Daniel froze.
“What did you say?”
“I saw it.”
“You were there?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“I watched the recording.”
The line crackled.
Daniel gripped the phone tighter.
“Where is it?”
Javier whispered something we couldn’t hear.
Then a woman’s voice came from behind him.
“Who are you talking to?”
Mariela.
Javier hung up.
Ten minutes later, he sent Daniel one message.
May you like
The drive is not the only copy.
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