Chapter 2 - Rosa Knew More Than She Ever Told Me
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Marcus.
We shut down every external network and moved the girls' location within the estate to a secure wing.
Rosa thought I was still out of town.
That was important.
I needed to see how she acted when she believed she was alone.
At two in the morning, the basement cameras showed her entering the laundry room.
She carried a small box.
I frowned.
Marcus enlarged the image.
“She shouldn't be carrying that.”
“What is it?”
We watched her hide the box beneath a loose floorboard.
Then she looked around.
She whispered to herself.
“Just a little longer.”
I felt suspicion return.
Maybe Patricia wasn't entirely wrong.
Maybe Rosa had a secret.
I wanted to believe what I'd seen that morning was enough.
But I had spent my adult life learning not to trust appearances.
“Bring her to the surveillance room,” I said.
Marcus hesitated.
“She doesn't know we're here.”
“I know.”
“Do you want her watched?”
“No.”
I stared at the floorboard.
“I want to know what's inside that box.”
Marcus retrieved it.
Inside were envelopes.
Photographs.
Medical receipts.
School papers.
And several documents about my daughters.
One file was labeled:
DANIELA – MEDICATION HISTORY.
Another:
MARTINA – ALLERGIES.
Another:
SCHOOL COUNSELOR NOTES.
I frowned.
These weren't secrets.
Rosa had always managed my daughters' medical and school information.
Then I found an envelope addressed to me.
Andrew,
I have tried three times to tell you.
Each time, someone stopped me.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My daughters standing with my wife.
On the back was a date.
Six months before my wife died.
Rosa had written:
She was afraid of someone.
I looked at another letter.
Your wife asked me to protect the girls if anything happened to her.
My breathing changed.
Marcus stared.
“Your wife knew?”
I continued reading.
She said if she died, I must never tell you everything at once.
You trust people too quickly when you love them.
I stopped.
That sentence sounded like my wife.
I read the next line.
She was afraid of Patricia.
I looked up.
“What?”
Marcus took the paper.
Then he read it twice.
The letter continued.
Andrew believes Patricia is harmless.
Maybe she is.
But if Patricia ever enters our home, watch the girls.
I sat down.
Patricia had met my wife only twice.
I knew that.
Or thought I did.
Maybe there had been more.
Rosa had kept the letter hidden for years.
I understood why.
If she had told me before, would I have believed her?
Probably not.
Patricia had spent months preparing me to distrust Rosa.
Rosa had known.
She had watched me change.
And still protected my daughters.
I felt ashamed.
Marcus looked at me.
“You owe her the truth.”
“I know.”
But first, I wanted to know everything.
We watched the cameras again.
Rosa returned to the floorboard.
She took out another envelope.
A man's photograph.
I recognized him.
My wife's brother.
Michael.
He had died twelve years earlier.
According to the official story, he had overdosed.
The photograph showed him standing beside a woman.
Patricia.
My pulse raced.
The date was three years before I met Patricia.
I looked at Marcus.
“How much did we really know about her?”
“Not enough.”
We searched old files.
Patricia's background appeared clean.
Too clean.
She had moved through four cities in six years.
Changed jobs repeatedly.
Changed phone numbers.
Used different addresses.
But there was one constant.
Michael.
She had known my wife's brother for years.
And Rosa had been trying to tell me.
I confronted her the next morning.
She entered the study carrying coffee.
She stopped when she saw me.
“You're home.”
“Yes.”
She looked at my face.
Then at Marcus.
Her expression changed.
“You found the box.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“After your wife died.”
“And?”
“You wouldn't listen.”
I stared at her.
“I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“You should have trusted me enough to tell me.”
She looked hurt.
“You were grieving.”
“That wasn't your decision.”
“No.”
She took a breath.
“It was Patricia's.”
My jaw tightened.
“What does she have to do with Michael?”
Rosa sat down.
“She was already around your family before you met her.”
“How?”
“Your wife believed Patricia was working with her brother.”
“Doing what?”
“Moving money.”
I stood.
“What money?”
“The money your wife's father left.”
I knew the inheritance.
A fortune.
Most of it was legally distributed.
But there had always been questions about a missing trust.
My wife had never discussed it.
Rosa continued.
“Michael found out some of the money was being moved through shell companies.”
“By Patricia?”
“By someone above her.”
“Who?”
Rosa shook her head.
“I never found out.”
“And my wife?”
“She found out too.”
“Then why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she thought your life would be in danger.”
I remembered something my wife had said three weeks before she died.
“Andrew, promise me you'll never trust someone just because they tell you they love you.”
I had thought she was talking about business.
Maybe she wasn't.
I looked at Rosa.
“Did my wife know she was going to die?”
Rosa's eyes filled with tears.
“She was afraid.”
“Of Patricia?”
“She was afraid of someone else.”
“Who?”
Rosa looked toward the window.
“Your own father.”
I froze.
“My father has been dead for seven years.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Your wife believed your father had been involved in something before his death.”
My stomach twisted.
My father had been the reason I entered the family business.
He had taught me to trust carefully.
He had also left me a complicated inheritance.
But I had never imagined him connected to my wife's death.
Rosa shook her head.
“I don't know the full story.”
“Then why hide it?”
“Because I had proof.”
“Where?”
She stood.
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“In the place your wife asked me to keep it.”
“Take me there.”
She hesitated.
“Andrew, once you see it, there is no going back.”
I stared at her.
“I already crossed that line.”
She took me to an old storage unit across the city.
Inside was a trunk.
Rosa opened it.
There were photographs of my wife.
Financial records.
Copies of letters.
And one sealed envelope.
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
Andrew,
If you are reading this, Rosa finally decided you were ready.
I stopped.
Then I read.
I don't know if I will have time to tell you everything.
Patricia is not who she says she is.
She never met me by accident.
She entered your life because someone wanted her inside your home.
I lowered the letter.
Rosa looked at me.
“Who?”
My wife's final page answered.
The man who ordered Patricia to marry you is someone you have trusted longer than you trusted me.
I stared.
There was no name.
Only a sentence.
Look at the person who never left your side.
I thought about Marcus.
My blood ran cold.
No.
Not Marcus.
But my wife could have meant anyone.
My brother-in-law.
My lawyer.
My business manager.
Or even Rosa.
Rosa watched me.
“I never knew who she meant.”
I believed her.
Mostly.
Then my phone rang.
Patricia.
I answered.
“Andrew?”
Her voice trembled.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“The girls are missing.”
I stood.
“What?”
“I went to their rooms.”
“They're not there.”
I looked at Rosa.
She was already moving toward the door.
Marcus checked the security feed.
Empty hallway.
Empty bedrooms.
My heart stopped.
Someone had taken my daughters from the secure wing.
There was one message on the monitor.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TRUSTED PATRICIA.
I stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
COME ALONE.
I looked at Rosa.
At Marcus.
At the woman who had saved my family.
At the man I had trusted for years.
And somewhere inside me, a terrible realization formed.
May you like
The traitor had known exactly where the girls were.
Only three people knew.
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