Chapter 4 - THE MIDNIGHT AUDITThat night, the Narvarte apartment was dead silent.
Mónica hadn't returned home yet, busy coordinating the final logistics of the morning sale with Fabián.
Julián sat at the kitchen table with a portable scanner, a flashlight, and a stack of files he had quietly retrieved from Mónica’s home office desk while she was out. Mateo had told him to look for anything bearing the letterhead of Garza Notary Services or any USB drives hidden in the study.
After two hours of frantic searching, hidden inside the lining of an old leather jewelry box, Julián found it: a small, black encrypted flash drive.
He plugged it into his laptop. A password prompt appeared.
Think, Julián, think, he told himself. What password would Mónica use for her secret digital vault?
Not their anniversary. Not her dog’s name.
He typed in his mother’s stroke date: 14012024.
Access denied.
He tried his brother’s birthday. Access denied.
Then, remembering the sheer contempt in Mónica’s voice when she spoke of his mother’s suffering, he typed a phrase from her daily insults: weakness_pays.
Click.
The folder opened.
Julián’s breath hitched as he scrolled through the contents. It wasn't just the forged land transfer documents. There were audio recordings of phone calls between Mónica and Fabián dating back six months.
He clicked on the most recent file labeled Fabián_Valle_Plan.mp3.
Mónica’s voice filled his headphones, crystal clear and chillingly cold:
"Are you sure the old lady won't survive another month? The buyer is pushing for the deed transfer."
Fabián’s voice chuckled on the other end:
"Relax, Mónica. The dosage of the blood thinner I told you to withhold is doing its job. Her blood pressure is a ticking time bomb. Even if Julián notices something, a stroke-induced cardiac arrest looks completely natural at her age. Once she passes away, the probate window closes, and the land sale cash is split 50/50 between us. We leave Julián with nothing but hospital bills."
Julián felt the room spin. They weren't just stealing land.
They were plotting his mother's murder.
He quickly copied every file, audio clip, and forged document to his own cloud storage and three separate backup drives. This wasn't just a civil property dispute anymore. This was a criminal conspiracy for premeditated elder abuse and attempted murder.
Just as the progress bar for the final download reached 100%, the front door lock clicked.
May you like
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Mónica was back. And she wasn't alone.
