Chapter 9 - THE FALL
“ISABELLA!”
I dropped to the floor.
A hole had opened beneath the hallway.
I looked down.
My daughter hung from a broken beam below, both arms wrapped around it.
“Dad!”
“I’ve got you!”
I lowered myself.
Police grabbed my belt and shoulders.
“Gabriel, don’t!”
I reached.
“Isabella, look at me.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“My hands hurt.”
“I know, baby.”
She was slipping.
“I can’t hold on.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“I can’t.”
I stretched farther.
“Then don’t.”
She stared at me.
“What?”
“Let go.”
“Dad!”
“Trust me.”
Her fingers slipped another inch.
“I’ll catch you.”
Behind me, officers tightened their grip.
“Now, Isabella!”
She closed her eyes.
And let go.
I caught her wrist.
Pain exploded through my shoulder.
She screamed.
Police dragged both of us upward.
The second her body reached the floor, I wrapped myself around her.
She buried her face against my chest.
“I knew you’d catch me.”
I couldn’t speak.
Across the hallway, Beatriz sat against the wall.
She had not fallen.
She was staring at us.
For the first time, she looked completely defeated.
Inspector Márquez handcuffed her.
Beatriz did not resist.
As officers led her away, she stopped.
“Gabriel.”
I didn’t look at her.
“You weren’t supposed to come home early.”
I finally turned.
“What?”
She laughed once.
Not happily.
“Two more weeks.”
“What happens in two weeks?”
Alejandro’s words came back to me.
One last authorization.
Beatriz smiled.
“You lose everything.”
Police took her away.
That night, Isabella was admitted to the hospital for dehydration, infected blisters, bruising, and mild malnutrition.
I sat beside her bed until she slept.
Sofia arrived after midnight.
She looked exhausted.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Beatriz had already filed paperwork.”
“For what?”
“To have you declared financially incompetent.”
I stared at her.
“On what grounds?”
“Stress. Erratic behavior. Possible substance abuse.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“But carefully prepared.”
She opened her laptop.
“Fake medical reports.”
“From whom?”
“A private doctor.”
“Paid?”
“Almost certainly.”
“And in two weeks?”
“There was a board meeting.”
I remembered.
Our annual holding-company restructuring.
Sofia nodded.
“If the incompetency petition had been granted and the share transfer accepted…”
“She controls voting rights.”
“For at least long enough to move assets.”
I looked at Isabella sleeping.
“How much?”
Sofia’s expression said enough.
“How much?”
“Potentially everything.”
My phone buzzed.
Mateo.
He had found a locked safe behind the wall in Beatriz’s dressing room.
Inside was cash.
Passports.
Fake IDs.
And one document that made the financial fraud look small.
A life insurance policy.
May you like
On me.
Fifty million euros.
