Chapter 10 - THE INSURANCE POLICY
The policy had been opened seven months earlier.
Beatriz was the beneficiary.
Alejandro was listed as the financial adviser.
I stared at the documents in disbelief.
“Could she collect if I died abroad?”
Sofia nodded slowly.
“Depending on circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“Accident.”
I remembered Dubai.
Scaffolding.
Construction sites.
Private drivers.
Helicopter transfers.
Suddenly every normal risk felt different.
Mateo entered.
“We checked your Dubai vehicles.”
“And?”
“One of the maintenance logs was altered.”
My skin went cold.
“What kind of alteration?”
“Brake inspection.”
I stood.
“Was something wrong?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“You’re telling me someone may have tampered with my car?”
“I’m telling you there’s enough to investigate.”
I walked to the hospital window.
For three months, I had thought I was building a hotel.
Meanwhile, my wife had been building a future without me in it.
The next morning, Alejandro was formally arrested.
He asked for a deal.
Inspector Márquez called me.
“He’s talking.”
“What did he say?”
“Beatriz approached him nine months ago.”
“About money?”
“About leaving you.”
“Why not divorce me?”
“Because divorce would not give her enough.”
I almost laughed.
“Enough?”
“She wanted control.”
“And Isabella?”
A pause.
“Eliminating your relationship with your daughter made the custody argument easier.”
My stomach turned.
“So the abuse was strategic?”
“Some of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was also angry.”
“About what?”
“According to Alejandro, Isabella inherited something Beatriz didn’t know about.”
I frowned.
“What?”
A trust.
My mother had created it before her death.
I knew about educational funds.
Not this.
Sofia searched the estate documents.
Then found it.
A private family trust.
Value: thirty-two million euros.
Beneficiary: Isabella Navarro.
Trustee until Isabella turned twenty-five:
Me.
Secondary trustee if I died:
Not Beatriz.
My sister, Lucia.
Suddenly everything made sense.
Beatriz could not touch the trust.
Not through marriage.
Not through divorce.
Not even through my death.
Unless Isabella was under her control.
I felt sick.
“She abused an eight-year-old for money.”
Sofia shook her head.
“She abused her because she wanted power.”
There was a difference.
Money can be spent.
Power needs obedience.
That evening, Isabella woke from a nightmare.
I sat beside her.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“Is Beatriz coming back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
I hesitated.
Not because I wanted to lie.
Because I wanted certainty.
“She won’t be allowed to hurt you again.”
Isabella looked at me.
“What about Alejandro?”
“He’s in jail.”
Her face tightened.
Then she whispered, “There was another man.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The man without the tattoo.”
I leaned closer.
“When did you see him?”
“Lots of times.”
“What did he do?”
“He gave Beatriz papers.”
“What kind of papers?”
“I don’t know.”
She thought.
“He told her, ‘Once Gabriel signs the hotel deal, we can finish it.’”
My breathing stopped.
The Dubai hotel project.
Not my personal money.
The deal itself.
May you like
Worth nearly one billion euros.
Someone else had been behind all of it.
