Chapter 11 - UNDER THE FLOOR PLAN
Javier refused to explain.
He claimed I had misheard him.
By then, misheard had joined overreacting and misunderstanding in the little collection of words he used when caught.
After he left, Tomás came back to inspect the halted work.
I asked whether anything had been covered or removed near the dining room.
“The cabinet,” he said.
“What cabinet?”
He pointed to a fitted sideboard beneath the window.
My mother kept tablecloths there.
The contractors had shifted it to measure for replacement units.
Behind it, taped to the wall, was a clear plastic sleeve.
Inside were electrical estimates, capacity notes, and photographs of the terrace.
Tomás read the first page.
His expression darkened.
“I sent this to Mercedes three weeks ago.”
It was a list of problems requiring assessment before the property could host large commercial gatherings.
Outdated wiring.
Restricted access.
A terrace that needed structural review.
Nothing dramatic on its own.
Everything expensive when combined.
At the bottom, Tomás had written that he would not continue the proposed conversion without appropriate professional approvals.
Mercedes had replied by email.
Proceed with cosmetic work only. Guests will not need to know about internal delays.
“They were still planning to hold the retreat,” I said.
Tomás nodded.
“Apparently.”
My anger changed shape.
Until then, I had been looking at what they had done to me.
Now I imagined sixty people on a terrace my mother used for Sunday coffee.
I photographed the sleeve where we found it and sent everything to Inés.
She arranged the next notifications and told me to keep the property closed.
That evening, the lender’s fraud investigator contacted me.
She asked precise questions about email access, document storage, and the account that received the funds.
“The disbursement went to an account held by Rivas Events,” she said.
“Then why was the loan in my company’s name?”
“That is part of what we’re investigating.”
I wanted relief.
Instead, another question formed.
“Who submitted the application?”
“We can’t give you every detail at this stage.”
“Was it my husband?”
A pause.
“The recorded verification call may be relevant.”
My stomach tightened.
“There was a call?”
“Yes.”
I had never spoken to them.
May you like
Someone had answered questions as me.
And someone close enough to know my life had known exactly what to say.
