Chapter 4 - The Blue Notebook.
The drive back to Marbella became a race against a fear I could not name.
Luis contacted his deputy at the villa while Elena called the local police liaison she trusted for sensitive family matters.
Nobody answered from the upstairs security post.
That was the first warning.
The second came when the main gate camera stopped transmitting.
"Javier still has administrator access," Luis said from the car behind us.
"Shut him out."
"I'm trying."
"Try faster."
Elena looked at me.
"Do not turn this into a siege when we arrive."
"My daughter just whispered that Beatriz was in the room and then the call died."
"I know."
"Then don't ask me to be calm."
"I'm asking you to be useful."
The words landed exactly where she intended.
I forced both hands to remain steady on the wheel.
When we reached the villa, the front gate stood open.
That was unusual enough to make Luis move ahead of me.
Two security officers met us at the entrance.
One had been locked inside the basement control room from the outside.
The other had been sent to inspect a false alarm at the north wall.
"Where is Isabella?"
"Upstairs with Marta now," the officer said.
My lungs finally worked again.
"And Beatriz?"
"In the east corridor."
I took the stairs two at a time.
Elena called after me, but she did not try to stop me.
Marta, one of the senior maids, stood outside my bedroom with Isabella behind her.
My daughter ran into me before I could speak.
I caught her carefully so I would not press her injured hands.
"I'm okay," she said immediately.
That sentence made me realize how quickly she had learned to reassure adults about pain that adults should have prevented.
"Did Beatriz touch you?"
"No."
"Did she threaten you?"
Isabella shook her head.
"She asked what I told you."
"And what did you say?"
"Nothing."
I kissed the top of her head.
"Good."
She pulled back slightly.
"Dad, the notebook."
"Where is it?"
She looked past me toward the hall.
"Not here."
Elena arrived behind us.
"Where did you hide it, Isabella?"
My daughter recognized her and relaxed a little.
"In Mom's room."
I stared at her.
Sofia's old dressing room had been kept locked since her death.
I had not entered it in nearly a year.
"How did you get inside?"
"Carmen had a key."
"When did you put it there?"
"After I saw Javier writing."
"Writing what?"
Isabella lowered her voice.
"Your name."
We crossed the hall together.
The door to Sofia's dressing room was locked, but my master key opened it.
Dust floated through a shaft of afternoon sunlight.
The room still smelled faintly of cedar, perfume, and time.
Isabella went directly to the old vanity.
She knelt and reached under the lowest drawer.
Her fingers found a strip of tape.
A thin blue notebook dropped into her lap.
She handed it to me.
"I didn't steal it."
"I know."
"It was on the floor by your office."
I opened the cover.
The first pages contained maintenance notes in Javier's handwriting.
Gate codes.
Supplier numbers.
Staff schedules.
Then the entries changed.
Dates appeared beside amounts of money.
A series of initials followed each amount.
B.R.
J.M.
D.R.
Some entries had the word Dubai beside them.
Others had Isabella's name.
One line made my skin go cold.
APRIL 14 - CHILD CALL CONTROL ACTIVE.
Below it was another.
MAY 2 - G.V. STILL UNAWARE.
My initials.
My name without being written.
I turned the page.
MAY 18 - SCHOOL DOCUMENTS READY.
MAY 26 - TRANSFER AFTER DEPARTURE.
JUNE 3 - TRUST ACCESS REQUIRES RESIDENCY CHANGE.
Elena took the notebook from my hand.
"There it is."
"What?"
"A motive."
I looked at her.
"Explain."
She pointed to the words TRUST ACCESS.
Sofia had created an inheritance trust for Isabella before she died.
The trust owned minority stakes in two hotel properties and several investment accounts.
I was primary trustee.
If I became unavailable, a secondary trustee appointed by Sofia's estate would take over.
Beatriz had no direct authority over it.
At least, that was what I believed.
"Residency change should not affect the trust," I said.
"Normally, no."
Elena turned another page.
"Unless someone created a document claiming you delegated educational and residential authority and then used that to request expense reimbursements or guardian-related access."
"That still wouldn't give her the money."
"Not legally."
The final word hung between us.
Isabella looked confused.
"Did I do something bad?"
I closed the notebook immediately.
"No."
"Then why does it have my name?"
I crouched beside her.
"Because grown-ups were doing things they shouldn't have been doing."
"Beatriz?"
I did not lie.
"Maybe."
"Javier too?"
"Maybe."
She looked at the floor.
"I heard them say I had to go away before you came home."
Every adult in the room became still.
"When?"
"A few nights ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her eyes filled with shame.
"I tried."
She looked at her bandaged hands.
"That's when I lost ten points."
I had to stand because my knees suddenly felt weak.
Elena touched Isabella's shoulder gently.
"You did exactly the right thing by hiding this."
My daughter looked at her.
"Really?"
"Really."
We placed the notebook in an evidence bag Luis brought upstairs.
Then we photographed every page before moving it.
Only after the copies were secure did I ask where Beatriz had gone.
She was waiting in the formal sitting room.
That choice told me she wanted an audience without appearing to want one.
The sitting room was where we received ambassadors, investors, and people who measured power by furniture.
Beatriz stood beside the fireplace wearing a pale dress and holding herself perfectly straight.
"Are you finished searching my home?"
"Our home," I said.
Her mouth tightened at the echo of her own correction from breakfast.
"Where is Javier?"
"How should I know?"
"He was here last night."
"He works here."
"At two in the morning?"
A pause.
"There was a plumbing issue."
"Three cardboard boxes fixed the plumbing?"
Her eyes sharpened.
"You've been watching cameras."
"One survived."
That was the first moment genuine panic crossed her face.
She recovered quickly.
"Gabriel, you are exhausted, angry, and letting Carmen poison you against me."
"You know I've spoken to Carmen."
Beatriz realized her mistake.
I saw it immediately.
I had never told her Carmen was involved.
She looked toward Elena.
"Of course she called Carmen."
"No," I said.
"I did."
Silence stretched across the room.
"Why did you fire her?"
"We've already discussed this."
"Why did you forge my signature?"
The blood drained from her face.
It lasted less than a second.
Then outrage arrived.
"Excuse me?"
"Temporary domestic authority and minor education consent."
She stared at me.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Good."
I nodded toward Elena.
"Then you won't mind us verifying it."
Beatriz's eyes narrowed.
"You brought a lawyer into this before even hearing my side."
"I've heard your side."
"No, you haven't."
She stepped closer.
"You walked in, saw a child doing one unpleasant task, and decided I was a monster."
"I heard you laughing about making her work like a maid."
For the first time, Beatriz had no immediate answer.
Her lips parted.
Then closed.
"You heard part of a private conversation."
"I heard enough."
"You always think you hear enough."
Her voice cracked with anger.
"You make decisions from hotel suites and expect everyone here to live inside them."
There was truth inside that accusation, and she knew it.
I had been absent too often.
I had mistaken providing everything for being present.
But guilt was not going to become her shield.
"My failures as a father do not excuse what you did to her."
Beatriz stared at me.
Then something in her expression changed.
The performance fell away.
"You want the truth?"
"Yes."
"Your daughter hates me."
From the doorway came a tiny intake of breath.
I turned.
Isabella stood behind Marta.
She had heard everything.
Beatriz saw her too.
Instead of stopping, she continued.
"She has hated me since the day I married you."
"Beatriz," Elena warned.
"No, let him hear it."
Beatriz pointed toward Isabella.
"She lies, she manipulates, she worships a dead mother, and every time I tried to create order, she used Sofia's memory to make me the villain."
Isabella's face went white.
I stepped between them.
"Enough."
Beatriz laughed bitterly.
"There."
She looked at me.
"You don't even ask whether I'm telling the truth."
"Because an adult does not compete with a dead woman through an eight-year-old child."
The room went silent.
Beatriz's eyes filled with something harder than anger.
"You have no idea what Sofia left behind."
I froze.
"What does that mean?"
She smiled without warmth.
"Ask your precious lawyer."
Elena's posture changed beside me.
I turned toward her.
"What is she talking about?"
Elena did not answer quickly enough.
May you like
And in that hesitation, I realized Beatriz was not the only person in the room keeping a secret.
SHE SAID YOU WOULD BELIEVE HER
