I stared at the photo in Alan’s hand, my mind numb. Someone had been watching me—close enough to snap that picture at Café Dulce, close enough to leave it in my hotel room with a threat that screamed of danger.
“They left no trace?” I asked, voice hollow.
Alan shook his head. “The staff claims no one entered. No cameras were tampered with. But everything’s overturned. Your suitcase, drawers—someone was looking for something.”
My fingers clenched around the envelope my mother had given me. The key. The truth. That’s what they were after.
“Did they take anything?” I asked.
“Not that I could tell. Just made a mess,” he replied. “But whoever it was… they weren’t just trying to scare you. They were sending a message.”
I exhaled slowly, then looked him in the eye. “I need your help. But I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you—not the embassy, not security, not even your family. Not yet.”
His brows furrowed. “Catherine, if you’re in real danger—”
“I am,” I said. “But I need to understand why before I make the next move. If I don’t play this right, people could get hurt. Or disappear.” Like my mother.
I pulled out the envelope and showed him the key. “This opens a safety deposit box. My mother gave it to me.”
His eyes widened. “Your mother—”
“She’s alive.”
Silence.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was,” I said bitterly. “She faked her death ten years ago. And now she’s dying for real. But before she goes, she wants to give me everything my father kept from me. Including the truth about the company… and Louis.”
Alan sat down heavily. “Jesus.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That about covers it.”
THE next morning, we took a cab to a discreet-looking bank just off Avinguda Diagonal. No gold signs. No glass doors. Just stone, steel, and security. I walked up to the front desk, palms sweating. The woman behind the counter glanced at the key and asked for ID. Once verified, she led us down to the vault—a cold, dimly lit corridor that smelled faintly of metal and secrets.
Box 73. I slid the key in and turned. The compartment inside was lined with old documents, photos, a flash drive, and two thick folders bound in twine. My hands trembled as I pulled it all out. Back at the hotel, we spread everything across the desk. Alan plugged in the flash drive while I opened the first folder. Inside was a letter.
Catherine,
If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. And it’s time you knew who your father really was. He didn’t just run a company—he ran a web of secrets, favors, and deals so corrupt, even I didn’t know the full extent. But what I did know, I documented. You need to be smart now. You need to be ruthless, because the people around you will not hesitate to burn you. This is your legacy, whether you like it or not. Use it wisely. —Mom
I swallowed the lump in my throat and opened the documents. The contents made my blood run cold. Bank statements. Bribery transactions. Names of politicians and judges. Signed agreements. Hidden company ledgers showing illegal off-the-books profits. And my father’s real will—one that left the majority share of the company not to Louis… But to me. The paper crackled in my shaking hands.
“He lied to everyone,” I whispered. “He buried this version of the will. Made Louis his heir on a forged document.”
Alan pointed at a scanned image on the drive. “Here—look at the signatures. These two are identical.”
“Forged,” I muttered.
“This could ruin Louis.”
My pulse raced. “No. This could ruin me—if I play it wrong.”
We spent hours cataloging everything. The flash drive had recordings too—of my father threatening people, including my mother. His voice was cold, menacing, completely different from the man I remembered tucking me into bed.
“I feel like I never even knew him,” I whispered.
Alan squeezed my shoulder. “You didn’t.”
There was also a photo—old, creased at the edges—of my mother, a man I didn’t recognize, and… Louis.
Only he looked younger. Much younger.
“Wait,” I said, leaning in. “This is from… years ago. Long before I married him.”
Alan tilted his head. “Who’s that guy next to your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
But I will find out soon.
BY afternoon, we were both drained, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to talk to Louis. I needed answers. But I had to be careful. So I called him. He picked up on the third ring.
“Catherine,” he said smoothly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Let’s meet,” I said. “Just us. Somewhere public.”
A pause. Then, “Very well. The rooftop bar at the Avenida Grand. Sunset. Be on time.”
He hung up. I turned to Alan. “He knows something. And he’s going to try and manipulate me.”
Alan frowned. “Then why go alone?”
“Because I need him to let his guard down,” I said. “And I need him to think I don’t know.”
THE rooftop bar was all glass, gold accents, and jazz music. I spotted Louis immediately, seated with a cocktail in hand, his expression unreadable.
I walked over calmly.
“You look lovely,” he said, standing to kiss my cheek.
I dodged subtly and sat down.
“I wasn’t sure you’d agree,” I said.
“I’m always happy to see my wife,” he said with that polished, poisonous charm.
I sipped my drink. “We’re still legally married, you know.”
His smile twitched. “Technicality.”
I leaned forward. “So tell me, Louis… when were you planning to tell me about the forged will?” His smile vanished. Got you.
“What are you talking about?” he asked smoothly, but his fingers tightened around the glass.
“I found it. The real one. The one where I inherit the company. Not you.”
He laughed—cold and brief. “That will was null. Your father changed it before he passed.”
“No,” I said. “He didn’t. You did. Or someone did it for you. But I have proof.”
He leaned in, eyes sharp. “Catherine, you don’t know what you’re stepping into.”
“Then enlighten me.”
He looked at me, truly looked at me—for the first time in years.
“You think this is about money? The company? You think this is about you?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“It’s so much bigger than that,” he said quietly. “You’re a threat, Catherine. Not just to me. To people far more dangerous than I am.”
My throat tightened. “Then why marry me?”
He smiled again—sadly this time. “Because your father made me. And I owed him everything. But I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You’re doing a great job,” I snapped.
He glanced around, then leaned closer. “I didn’t send that photo. I didn’t threaten you. But if you keep digging, someone else will. And they won’t be as patient.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say. I’m already risking too much.”
I stood abruptly. “Then consider this your last warning. I’m coming for what’s mine.”
He looked up at me, eyes dark. “Be careful, Catherine. They don’t just erase wills. They erase people.” I walked away, heart thudding.
BACK in my suite, Alan was pacing.
“Well?”
I handed him my phone. I had recorded everything.
“He knows more,” I said. “But he’s scared. Which means we’re getting close.”
He looked at me. “What now?”
“We're going back to Manila.”
“You’re ready to fight him?”
I looked down at the key still in my hand.
“No,” I said. “I’m ready to bury him.”
Just then, my phone buzzed again. No message, just a video. I tapped it open. The screen lit up with footage from a security camera—inside our hotel room. It showed me standing at the desk, holding the will, followed by a timestamp and a final frame… A close-up of my face.
Then a message:
“You’ve been warned. The next shot won’t be with a camera.”
I dropped the phone. Someone was watching me in real-time. And they were done playing games.
