Chapter 11 - His Name on the Transfer Order
Mateo read the printed transfer request in Teresa's office. He put it down, picked it up, and read it again.
"I didn't sign this," he said.
"I'm going to need more than that," Teresa replied gently. "Where were you at four yesterday?"
"On a train to Zaragoza. My ticket's in my email."
"Then save it, along with any location records you have."
The signature wasn't convincing up close. The first letter looked like Mateo's, but the surname leaned the wrong way. Whoever had copied it knew what it should look like, not how Mateo actually wrote.
Hospital staff had stopped the transfer, which was the immediate relief. The larger question remained: who kept producing documents in our names?
Sara was awake when we returned. Mateo stood at the foot of her bed like a boy waiting to be told off.
"Abuela, I should've visited."
"Yes," she said.
He swallowed. She patted the mattress beside her. "Now sit."
He did, and she held his hand for a long time. Forgiveness was not the same thing as pretending nothing had happened. Sara had taught us that distinction when we broke windows as children.
She told us Claudia often brought Andrés to the house while she was sleepy. Once, the man had practiced asking whether she understood a document. When she said no, Claudia told him to record a different answer.
"I couldn't fight," Sara whispered. "My words kept disappearing."
"You don't have to fight alone anymore," Mateo said.
Outside the room Teresa called with unexpected news. A junior employee at Andrés's office had contacted her after seeing reports of the property dispute. She said she knew where the music box had gone.
"Will she talk to investigators?" I asked.
"Only if they protect her identity at first. She's afraid of losing her job."
May you like
The woman had also mentioned a locked storage cabinet marked with one number.
Twenty-six.
