PART 3

 

The document carried Don Ernesto’s full name, date of birth, address in Coyoacán and identification number.

At the bottom was a space for the doctor’s signature.

But that wasn’t what made Ernesto grip the edge of the desk.

It was the date of the supposed evaluation.

Three weeks earlier.

According to the document, Dra. Méndez had examined Ernesto inside his home that afternoon and found him “disoriented, forgetful and incapable of understanding the financial consequences of his decisions.”

Ernesto shook his head.

—That’s impossible.

The bank manager looked at him.

—Why?

—Because that day I wasn’t home.

Valeria turned toward him.

—Where were you?

For the first time since Patricia had appeared, something almost resembling anger replaced the fear in Ernesto’s face.

—At the cultural center. I give a history workshop there every Wednesday. That afternoon I spoke for almost 2 hours about the Mexican Revolution in front of 26 people.

Valeria looked back at the certificate.

A medical examination that had never happened.

A diagnosis made by a doctor he had never met.

And a document Patricia planned to use the next morning to take away his ability to make decisions for himself.

The bank manager, Daniela Herrera, closed the office door.

—Don Ernesto, I need your permission to place an immediate security hold on any unusual digital transactions while we review this.

—Do it.

His answer came without hesitation.

Daniela nodded and started typing.

Valeria placed Ernesto’s phone on the desk.

—And save everything.

She forwarded the messages and attachment to her own email, then to Daniela’s official bank address with Ernesto’s authorization.

Only after that did she call Sebastián.

She used her own phone.

A man answered on the fourth ring.

—Hello?

—Is this Sebastián Salgado?

—Yes. Who is this?

Valeria looked at the old man sitting across from her.

—My name is Valeria Cruz. I’m with your grandfather.

Silence.

Then Sebastián’s voice changed.

—Is he hurt?

—Not physically.

—Where is he?

—At a bank in Coyoacán.

Another pause.

—Why are you with my grandfather?

It was a reasonable question.

The answer sounded ridiculous even to Valeria.

—Because 20 minutes ago he asked me to pretend to be his granddaughter for 5 minutes.

Sebastián said nothing.

—And now your aunt and your cousin appear to be trying to take control of his accounts, sell his house and get a doctor to declare him mentally incapable without examining him.

The silence disappeared.

—What?

—You need to come here.

—I’m leaving now.

Valeria almost hung up.

Then Ernesto spoke.

—Ask him why he stopped calling me.

Sebastián heard him.

—Grandpa?

Ernesto took the phone.

—Where have you been?

The anger drained from Sebastián’s voice.

—Grandpa, I’ve been calling.

—No, you haven’t.

—Every week.

Ernesto frowned.

—I haven’t received a call from you in more than a month.

Valeria reached for his phone.

She opened the blocked contacts.

There it was.

Sebastián Salgado.

Blocked.

Ernesto stared at the screen.

—I didn’t do that.

Sebastián went quiet.

Then he said something that changed the expression on Ernesto’s face again.

—Aunt Patricia told me you were angry with me. She said you didn’t want me visiting because I was always too busy. She said you needed space.

Ernesto closed his eyes.

Patricia had not simply been preparing documents.

She had been isolating him.

Separating him from the one relative who might have questioned what she was doing.

Valeria checked the rest of the phone.

Three more contacts had been blocked.

A neighbor.

A former colleague.

And the number of the cultural center.

—She’s been touching your phone —Valeria said.

Ernesto swallowed.

—She comes every Tuesday. She says she helps me update things.

Valeria and Daniela exchanged a look.

Forty minutes later, Sebastián arrived.

He was wearing a dark suit with no tie and still had an employee badge clipped to his belt. He walked into Daniela’s office looking ready to fight someone.

Then he saw his grandfather.

The anger left him.

—Grandpa.

Ernesto didn’t stand.

Sebastián stopped in front of him.

—I’m sorry.

Ernesto stared at him.

—For what?

—For believing Patricia instead of coming to see you myself.

That answer mattered.

Not because it fixed anything.

It didn’t.

But because Sebastián didn’t make excuses.

He didn’t say he had been busy.

He didn’t blame work.

He simply took responsibility.

Ernesto finally nodded toward an empty chair.

—Sit down. We have a problem.

Daniela showed him the rejected transfer request.

Sebastián’s face hardened when he saw the company name.

Servicios Patrimoniales B&R.

—B&R.

Valeria looked at him.

—You know it?

—Bruno registered a consulting company about a year ago. He told everyone it was for real estate management.

Daniela turned her screen toward Sebastián.

—The account receiving the 680,000 pesos belongs to that company.

Sebastián stared at the transfer request.

—He tried to steal from him.

—He tried —Daniela corrected—. The transaction was rejected because our fraud system detected inconsistencies between the request and your grandfather’s previous banking activity.

She printed another page.

—But this wasn’t the first unusual movement.

Over the previous 7 months, smaller transfers had left Ernesto’s secondary account.

Nine thousand.

Twelve thousand.

Seventeen thousand.

Amounts small enough not to trigger an immediate alert.

All paid to companies Ernesto did not recognize.

Sebastián leaned closer.

—How much?

Daniela calculated.

—Two hundred fourteen thousand pesos.

Ernesto looked stunned.

—I thought my expenses had simply increased.

Valeria felt something twist in her stomach.

They had counted on exactly that.

Not stealing everything at once.

Taking enough that an 81-year-old man might blame himself.