Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Password
For three seconds, I couldn't move.
Daniel Reyes.
The man who had worked for my father for eleven years.
The man who had accompanied me to my first investment committee meeting.
The man who had once driven through a snowstorm to bring me the documents I had forgotten at the office.
The man who had stood beside me that morning and explained how Camila had accessed the confidential financing file.
Now his name was on the security screen.
My father stared at the tablet.
“Daniel,” he said quietly.
The assistant standing beside the door looked up.
“Yes, sir?””
“Explain this.””
Daniel's face had lost its color.
He approached the desk and examined the screen.
“I didn't access that archive.””
My father didn't blink.
“Your credentials did.””
“Then someone used them.””
I crossed my arms.
“Who else has access to your account?””
Daniel looked at me.
“Only me.””
The answer hung in the air.
My father slowly closed the folder in front of him.
“Then we have a problem.””
Daniel shook his head.
“Mr. Mendoza, I've worked for you for eleven years. You know I would never compromise this company.””
“I know what you've told me,” my father replied.
“I need to know what the evidence says.””
Daniel looked wounded.
“Sir, you're going to believe a computer log over me?””
My father stood.
“I'm going to believe neither until the investigation is complete.””
I watched Daniel carefully.
He wasn't sweating.
He wasn't shouting.
He was doing something much more interesting.
He was looking at the clock.
Only briefly.
But he checked it twice in less than a minute.
“Daniel,” I said, “what happened at 1:56 a.m.?””
“I was home.””
“Can you prove that?””
“My building has security cameras.””
“Were you alone?””
He hesitated.
“Yes.””
I picked up the tablet.
“Then why are you worried?””
He looked at me.
“Because someone is trying to frame me.””
My father pressed a button on his desk phone.
“Security. I want the access credentials of every executive account suspended immediately. Nobody enters the archive without my authorization.””
A voice answered.
“Understood, sir.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“Mr. Mendoza, please. Let me handle this. I know the system better than anyone.””
My father looked directly at him.
“That's precisely why you won't.””
Daniel's jaw tightened.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked angry.
“After everything I've done for this company?””
I answered before my father could.
“Loyalty isn't measured by how many years you've worked somewhere, Daniel. It's measured by what you do when nobody is watching.””
He turned toward me.
“You think I betrayed your father?””
“I think someone accessed a confidential account. And your name is on the record.””
He looked at my father again.
“Sir, I request that you don't suspend me.””
My father pressed another button.
“Security will escort you to your office. You may collect personal belongings under supervision. You are not to access company systems or contact anyone involved in this investigation.””
Daniel stood motionless.
Then he slowly removed his access card from his jacket.
He placed it on the desk.
“Very well.””
He turned toward the door.
Just before leaving, he looked at me.
“You should be careful, Isabel.””
I raised an eyebrow.
“Is that a warning?””
“No.””
His eyes briefly moved toward my father.
“It's advice.””
Then he walked out.
The door closed.
My father remained standing.
I looked at the tablet again.
“Papa, what if he's innocent?””
“Then the evidence will clear him.””
“And if he's not?””
My father walked to the window.
“Then eleven years of loyalty were simply eleven years of opportunity.””
At 4:20 p.m., the security director arrived with two investigators.
They had recovered additional information from the archive server.
The access at 1:56 a.m. had been made through Daniel's executive account, but the device identifier was unfamiliar.
Someone had cloned his authentication token.
“Can you identify the device?”” I asked.
The security director, Marcus Hill, nodded.
“It's a company-issued laptop.””
“Whose?””
He opened a report.
“Registered to the finance department.””
I leaned closer.
The registered employee was Thomas Bennett, senior financial controller at Grupo Vanguardia.
I looked at my father.
“Do you know him?””
“Of course. He's been with us for six years.””
“Where is he now?””
Marcus checked his notes.
“On leave.””
“Since when?””
“Yesterday afternoon.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why?””
“He submitted a medical leave request. His manager approved it.””
I looked at the access record.
“Can we locate him?””
“His company phone is switched off. His home address is registered in Connecticut.””
My father picked up his phone.
“Have legal counsel contact him. We need a formal interview.””
Marcus nodded.
Then he hesitated.
“There is another issue.””
I looked at him.
“What now?””
“The archive access wasn't the only unusual activity last night.””
He displayed a second report.
At 2:07 a.m., someone had opened an internal employee directory.
At 2:11 a.m., someone had accessed a restricted vendor payment ledger.
At 2:13 a.m., Camila downloaded the confidential financing page.
The sequence was too deliberate to be accidental.
I pointed to the second entry.
“Why would someone open the vendor ledger?””
Marcus enlarged the screen.
A specific vendor account had been accessed.
Serrano Advisory.
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Camila's brother.””
“Yes.””
My father looked at the security director.
“Freeze every payment connected to that company.””
“Already done.””
I stared at the screen.
There was something else.
The payment ledger showed that Serrano Advisory had received three transfers over the previous four months.
The first was relatively small.
The second was nearly three times larger.
The third had been processed only two days earlier.
The amounts were not random.
They appeared to match the consulting fees listed in Desarrollos De la Vega's financing proposal.
“Papa,” I said, “these payments were made before the financing was approved.””
My father nodded.
“Which means someone may have been using the proposal to justify payments that should never have been authorized.””
I looked at the final transaction.
There was a reference number.
I recognized it.
It was the same reference number I had found in the property valuation documents.
“Marcus, who authorized this payment?””
He enlarged the transaction details.
The screen displayed an approval signature.
I leaned closer.
It wasn't Daniel's.
It wasn't Thomas Bennett's.
It belonged to a company executive who had never been mentioned in the investigation.
*Victor Mendoza.*
My father's younger brother.
My uncle.
That evening, I found my father alone in the library.
He was standing beside the fireplace, holding a photograph.
It showed him and Victor at the opening of Grupo Vanguardia's first headquarters.
They looked younger.
My father had dark hair.
Victor was laughing, one hand resting on his brother's shoulder.
I had never seen my father look so old.
“Papa?””
He placed the photograph on the mantel.
“Your uncle has been with this company since the beginning.””
“I know.””
“He helped me build it.””
I sat on the sofa.
“Do you think he knew?””
My father didn't answer immediately.
“Victor handles several international partnerships. He has access to information that most executives never see.””
“Could he have authorized those payments?””
“Yes.””
“Could he have instructed Daniel?””
My father looked at me.
“Possibly.””
I watched the flames move behind the glass.
“Then why would he do this?””
My father gave a tired smile.
“Money doesn't always make people greedy, Isabel. Sometimes it simply reveals what they were already willing to do.””
He sat beside me.
“Your uncle has always believed he should have been president of this company.””
“But you built it together.””
“That's what I thought.””
I looked down.
For a moment, I remembered family dinners at this house.
Victor had always been charming.
He brought gifts for my birthday.
He called me his favorite niece.
When I married Alejandro, he gave a speech about family loyalty.
I had never questioned his affection.
Now I wondered how much of it had been genuine.
My father placed his hand over mine.
“Don't let this investigation turn you into someone who suspects everyone.””
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
There was no greeting.
Only a photograph.
It showed Alejandro entering a private underground parking garage.
The timestamp was 11:42 p.m. the previous night.
A second photograph followed.
Alejandro was standing beside Victor Mendoza.
And Victor was handing him a thick brown envelope.
May you like
Beneath the photographs was one sentence.
Your ex-husband isn't the only man who knows how to use your family name.
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