Chapter 3 - A Message From an Unknown Number
I stared at the security-camera image until my eyes hurt.
Alejandro stood directly outside my door.
Sergio was behind him.
And in Sergio's right hand was the certified copy of my apartment deed that had disappeared from my filing cabinet.
The doorbell rang again.
"Mariana," Alejandro called. "I know you're inside."
I didn't move.
My phone vibrated.
The anonymous number.
Do not open that door.
I looked from the message to the camera feed.
Sergio leaned toward Alejandro and said something I couldn't hear.
Alejandro shook his head.
Then he knocked.
"Please. Just let me explain."
I typed quickly.
Who are you? How do you know they're here?
The response came almost immediately.
Because I've been watching Sergio.
My stomach tightened.
Why?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
The doorbell rang again.
Alejandro's voice came through the door.
"Mariana, Sergio is here to fix this."
Fix this?
I almost laughed.
I opened the building security app and called downstairs.
Luis answered.
"Señora Mariana?"
"Who authorized the man with my husband?"
A pause.
"Señor Alejandro said he was a legal adviser."
"He isn't authorized to be here."
"I'm sorry. Your husband—"
"I understand. Please send someone upstairs."
"Right away."
I ended the call.
Then I walked toward the door but kept the deadbolt locked.
"Alejandro."
Silence outside.
Then:
"Mariana?"
"Tell Sergio to leave."
Sergio answered instead.
"Ms. Mariana, I think we should speak calmly."
His voice was smooth.
Professional.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
"You have something that belongs to me."
Silence.
"The document in your hand."
Another pause.
Then Sergio said, "Your husband gave this to me."
My chest tightened.
I looked through the peephole.
Alejandro turned sharply toward Sergio.
"That's not what happened."
Interesting.
I raised my voice.
"Then what happened?"
"Open the door."
"No."
"Mariana—"
"Explain it from there."
Alejandro rubbed both hands over his face.
Sergio remained unnervingly still.
Finally, Alejandro said, "My mother took the copy."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The first piece of truth.
"And gave it to Sergio?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Sergio interrupted.
"Your mother-in-law asked me to review a family asset arrangement."
Family asset.
My apartment had acquired a new name.
"Return my document."
"I will."
"Slide it under the door."
"It's certified. I don't want to damage it."
"Then leave it with security."
"I'd rather hand it directly to you."
"That's not happening."
Alejandro stepped closer.
"Mariana, please."
"Why is he involved in your debt?"
Silence.
I watched his face through the camera.
The color drained from it.
Sergio looked at him.
Then directly toward my door.
"You've been talking to someone," Sergio said.
It wasn't a question.
I said nothing.
"Who?" Alejandro asked.
I remained silent.
"Mariana, who contacted you?"
The elevator opened behind them.
Two building security employees stepped into the hallway.
Sergio immediately straightened his jacket.
Alejandro looked embarrassed.
Good.
One of the guards approached.
"Sir, the resident has asked that the visitor leave."
"I'm her husband," Alejandro said.
"The visitor."
He pointed toward Sergio.
Sergio smiled.
"No problem."
He looked directly at the security camera.
Then raised the certified copy of my deed.
"I'll leave this downstairs."
He turned toward the elevator.
Before entering, he looked back at Alejandro.
"We'll finish this later."
The doors closed.
I didn't like the word finish.
Alejandro remained outside.
"Can I come in now?"
"No."
"He's gone."
"You're not."
His face tightened.
"I'm your husband."
"Then start behaving like one."
He looked toward the guard.
"Can we have privacy?"
The guard stepped farther down the hallway but remained nearby.
Smart man.
Alejandro lowered his voice.
"I screwed up."
I waited.
"I should have told you."
"About what?"
"My debt."
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"One point eight."
I felt my stomach drop.
"Million?"
"Pesos."
I leaned against the wall.
Almost 1.8 million pesos.
And he had married me without telling me.
"How?"
"It wasn't one thing."
"That's not an answer."
"I made an investment."
"What investment?"
"A logistics company."
"When?"
"Eighteen months ago."
Before our engagement.
"With whose money?"
"Mine. Then borrowed money."
"From a bank?"
Silence.
"Sergio?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"Sergio arranged financing."
"From whom?"
"I don't know all the people involved."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"You borrowed nearly two million pesos and don't know who lent it?"
"It didn't start at two million."
"How much?"
"Six hundred thousand."
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"And it became 1.8?"
"Interest. Penalties. The business collapsed."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I could fix it."
"When? Before or after marrying me?"
His face tightened.
"Don't do that."
"Do what? Put events in chronological order?"
"Make our marriage sound like a financial transaction."
"Your family was discussing my apartment as collateral."
"I never agreed to that."
"You let them discuss it."
"I told them no."
"After giving your mother access to my home?"
"I didn't give her the key for that."
"Then why?"
"She said she needed to collect some tax records."
"And you believed her?"
He didn't answer.
I felt something painful settle inside me.
Alejandro wasn't stupid.
That was what made this worse.
He had simply spent years learning not to challenge his mother.
And now I was supposed to pay for that weakness.
"Did you know she took my deed?"
"No."
"Did you know she brought it to a notary?"
His head snapped up.
"What?"
That reaction looked genuine.
"Daniel Ortega called me."
Alejandro stepped closer to the door.
"Mariana, listen to me. Don't sign anything."
I almost laughed.
"You think?"
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He looked genuinely frightened now.
"What did Ortega say?"
"That Teresa brought paperwork involving my apartment."
Alejandro swore under his breath.
Then he pulled out his phone.
"Who are you calling?"
"My mother."
"Don't."
He stopped.
"Why?"
"Because I want to know what she thinks I know."
He stared at the door.
For once, neither of us spoke.
Then Alejandro said quietly, "You're right."
Those might have been the first useful words he'd spoken all day.
I went back to the office.
My phone vibrated again.
The anonymous number.
Did Sergio leave?
I typed:
Yes.
Good.
You still haven't told me who you are.
Nothing.
I tried another question.
Were you the person who recorded them?
The typing indicator appeared.
Yes.
My heartbeat accelerated.
Why?
This time the response took nearly a minute.
Because Teresa tried the same thing before.
I sat down.
With whom?
No response.
I typed again.
Whose property?
Three dots.
Then:
Mine.
I stared at the word.
Mine.
A woman?
A former relative?
Someone who had been married into this family?
I typed:
Call me.
The response came immediately.
Not yet.
Why are you hiding?
Because Sergio thinks I disappeared.
That sentence chilled me.
I stood.
What does that mean?
No answer.
I walked back toward the entrance.
Alejandro was still outside.
I didn't open the door.
"Do you know another woman whose property your mother tried to control?"
Silence.
I watched him through the camera.
His expression changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
"Alejandro?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"Answer me."
He looked down.
"Mariana—"
"You know."
"It's complicated."
I laughed bitterly.
"Apparently everything you hide is complicated."
"It happened years ago."
"What happened?"
"My cousin was married."
"Which cousin?"
"Daniel."
I remembered Daniel vaguely.
He hadn't attended our wedding.
Alejandro had said he lived abroad.
"Daniel who?"
"Daniel Salgado."
"And his wife?"
Alejandro hesitated.
"Lucía."
I typed the name into the message thread.
Are you Lucía?
No response.
Then Alejandro said through the door:
"They divorced."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"That's a lie."
"My family never talked about it."
"Your family talks about my salary over lunch, but nobody discussed why your cousin suddenly got divorced?"
He closed his eyes.
"Lucía accused my mother of interfering."
"With her property?"
He said nothing.
That was enough.
My phone buzzed.
The anonymous sender had replied.
Don't say my name where Alejandro can hear you.
Too late.
I felt suddenly exposed.
Why?
Because if he knows I'm talking to you, Teresa will know within ten minutes.
I looked toward the door.
Alejandro was pacing outside.
I typed:
What happened to your property?
The response came in fragments.
My parents left me a small house in Coyoacán.
Then:
Teresa convinced Daniel we should use it to guarantee a business loan.
Then:
I refused.
I waited.
Another message.
Three weeks later, documents appeared with my signature.
My stomach turned.
Forged?
I could never prove who signed them.
I looked toward my filing cabinet.
R-17.
My missing certified copy.
The notary.
Sergio.
Did Sergio handle those documents?
A long pause.
Then:
Yes.
I stopped breathing.
The doorbell sounded again.
I checked the camera.
Alejandro.
"Mariana?"
"What?"
"I need to tell you something about Sergio."
"Go ahead."
"Not through the door."
"That's the only option."
He stood motionless.
Then he said:
"Sergio isn't a lawyer."
"I figured that out."
"He used to work with a document-processing firm."
"What kind?"
"Property transfers. Loan applications. Corporate registrations."
The pieces began connecting.
"And now?"
"I don't know."
"You were standing beside him outside Ortega's office."
"My mother called me there."
"Why?"
"She said she could solve my debt."
"With my apartment."
"I didn't know that."
I wanted to believe him.
That was the problem.
Some part of me still wanted to believe the man I'd married.
Love didn't disappear just because trust did.
It lingered.
And that made betrayal hurt more.
"Why did you look away at lunch?" I asked.
"What?"
"When Renata hit me."
He said nothing.
"Why?"
"I was embarrassed."
"For me?"
"For them."
That answer surprised me.
"Then why didn't you defend me?"
His voice became quiet.
"Because I've spent my whole life trying to keep my mother from exploding."
I leaned my forehead against the door.
"And now you're married to me."
"I know."
"No. I don't think you do."
"I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes.
"I don't need sorry right now."
"What do you need?"
"The truth."
"Okay."
"All of it."
He inhaled.
Then:
"My truck wasn't paid off seven months ago."
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"I sold it."
"You told me—"
"I know."
"Why?"
"Debt."
"What else?"
"My savings are gone."
I gripped the phone.
"What else?"
"I borrowed money from Renata."
That explained something.
Her confidence.
Her entitlement.
"How much?"
"Two hundred thousand."
"What else?"
Silence.
"Alejandro."
He looked directly at the camera.
"My mother paid Sergio seventy thousand pesos two weeks before our wedding."
My blood went cold.
"For what?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I found the transfer yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"That's why I brought her here. I confronted her."
"In my apartment?"
"She said the payment was for paperwork connected to my debt. Then she asked where you kept the property documents."
"And you showed her?"
"No."
"But she found them."
"Apparently."
I backed away from the door.
The anonymous number sent another message.
Ask him about the prenuptial draft.
I stared.
Prenuptial?
We had never signed one.
We had discussed separate premarital property informally, but there had been no formal agreement beyond what the law already recognized.
I returned to the door.
"What prenuptial draft?"
Alejandro froze.
That was enough.
"What draft?"
"Mariana—"
"Tell me."
"My mother had one prepared."
"When?"
"Before the wedding."
"Why didn't I see it?"
"Because I refused to give it to you."
"Why?"
"It wasn't a normal prenup."
My mouth went dry.
"What was in it?"
He rubbed his jaw.
"A clause."
"What clause?"
"It treated the apartment as part of a future family holding structure."
I almost couldn't process the sentence.
"You mean transferring ownership?"
"Eventually."
"And your mother drafted this?"
"Through Sergio."
"Before we got married?"
"Yes."
I felt physically sick.
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I destroyed it."
"Did you?"
His eyes lifted toward the camera.
"I thought I did."
My phone vibrated.
Lucía again.
He didn't.
A photograph loaded.
A document.
At the top were my full name and Alejandro's.
At the bottom was a signature line.
My signature line.
Already signed.
But I had never seen the document before.
I enlarged the image.
The signature looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
Then I saw the date.
Three days before our wedding.
I had spent that entire afternoon at my office.
I sent Lucía one question.
Where did you get this?
Her answer arrived.
From Sergio's blue folder.
I looked toward the door.
Alejandro was still waiting outside.
Then another image arrived.
This one showed a list of files.
Names.
Property addresses.
Dates.
Codes.
R-11.
R-12.
R-13.
R-14.
R-15.
R-16.
And beside my name:
R-17.
My stomach dropped.
I scrolled upward.
One name stopped me.
Lucía Herrera — R-09.
So she had been telling the truth.
But another name appeared directly below hers.
A name I recognized.
Not from Alejandro's family.
From mine.
I enlarged the screen.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My mother's full name was listed beside file R-10.
My mother had died four years ago.
Before I had ever met Alejandro.
My phone rang.
Lucía.
For the first time, she was calling instead of texting.
I answered.
"Lucía?"
She was breathing hard.
"Mariana, I just found out why Teresa chose you."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What do you mean, chose me?"
"Your marriage wasn't where this started."
A sound came from her side of the call.
A door opening.
Lucía suddenly whispered:
"Oh God."
"Lucía?"
Someone spoke in the background.
A man's voice.
May you like
Then Lucía whispered one final sentence.
"Sergio knows I'm here."
