Chapter 58 Chapter 58
Chapter 58 Chapter 58
At 7:10 a.m. on Thursday, Cavalier walked into the main studio with the USB drive in his left hand and only two and a half hours of sleep under his belt.
Manuel was already sitting in the armchair at the back with the newspaper open and his first cup of coffee of the day. He looked up when he saw him come in, stared at his face for two seconds, and slowly closed the newspaper.
“Son.”
“Grandpa.”
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Sit down.”
Cavalier sat down across from him. He placed the USB drive on the coffee table between them.
“Grandpa, do you recognize this?”
—No.
“There’s an audio file inside. Recorded on March 22nd of last year, at noon, in this studio. You and me.”
Manuel slowly took off his glasses, wiped them with the handkerchief from his jacket pocket, and put them back on.
“Son, you and I talked that day.”
—I know. I watched the camera footage last night with Derek. But the camera doesn’t have audio. The audio comes from somewhere else.
“What did we talk about?”
“That’s what I’ve come to ask you. The recording says I asked you for Elena Mendoza’s heart before she died. My wife heard it four days ago, and she hasn’t spoken to me for three days. Last night she had a threatened miscarriage. This morning, Grandpa, I need to know exactly what we said that afternoon.”
Manuel stared at the USB drive for three seconds.
“Son, that day you asked me to find out if the targeted donation Vargas was mentioning could apply to your case. We talked about Vargas’s case, not your mother-in-law’s. Your mother-in-law didn’t exist for us in March of last year. I met her at the Memorial in August, five months later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Son, I’ve been negotiating contracts for thirty years without ever missing a date. On March 22nd of last year, you didn’t know Elena Mendoza existed, and neither did I. That, son, is confirmed by my oncologist’s calendar and Vargas’s. If Derek checks both, he’ll confirm it.”
—All right.
Pause.
—Grandpa.
—Yes.
—One more question.
—Go ahead.
“Who has had access to the recordings from this studio in the last twelve months?”
Manuel held his gaze.
“Me, you, Derek, and the system. The only living person outside of those three with a download password is your brother. But Marcelo wasn’t at the mansion on March 22 of last year, and he hasn’t downloaded anything from the cameras in this studio in the last six months.”
—Are you sure?
“Derek confirmed the complete download log for me last Tuesday. I’ll send it to your email in ten minutes.”
“Good.”
At 7:28, Derek knocked on the studio door. He walked in without waiting for a response, holding a yellow folder in his hand.
“Boss, Mr. Manuel, good morning. I’m here with the report on the audio’s origin. The analysis was completed at 6:40 a.m.”
Cavalier motioned for him to speak.
“The file was edited in Hazelton, women’s wing, on a terminal assigned to attorney Constance Vellori during an authorized visit last Friday at 3:00 p.m. Attorney Vellori has been Vanessa Ashford’s civil attorney for the past six weeks.” The source of the original audio is a field recording captured by a personal device in the main study of this mansion on March 22 of last year. That original source did not come from Derek’s cameras. It came from a pocket microphone that was active during the conversation.
Manuel raised his left hand. Slowly.
“Derek.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pocket microphone?”
“Yes, sir. That is the only possible explanation for the origin of the file. The audio was captured by a personal device belonging to someone who was present in or near this studio that day.”
Long pause.
Cavalier and Manuel locked eyes for five seconds.
—Grandpa.
—Son.
“Who else came into this studio that afternoon?”
“No one, son. Just you and me. And Gloria, just once, to serve coffee.”
“Marcelo?”
—Not Marcelo. Marcelo was in Boston that day.
Three-second pause.
—Grandpa, Marcelo wasn’t in Boston.
“Son, his schedule…”
“His schedule said Boston. But he arrived at the mansion at 11:40 that same morning. I confirmed it last night with the video from the lobby camera. He went up the stairs in the west wing. He didn’t come down for lunch. He left at two.”
Manuel closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he took off his glasses again.
“Son.”
“Yes.”
“Bring the video.”
Cavalier motioned to Derek. Derek opened the laptop on the desk, connected the hard drive, and played the file. 11:40. Lobby. Marcelo getting out of the sedan wearing a dark jacket. Climbing the stairs in the west wing.
Manuel stared at the screen for three seconds.
“Son, this changes things.”
“I know.”
“Your brother recorded that footage in March of last year. He saved it. And he used it when it suited him.”
“He used it when he knew he was losing.”
“Yes.”
—When?
—When we arrested him in Riverdale. He had the audio recording on him somewhere. He gave it to Vanessa before they turned him in, or she got it back afterward. Vanessa edited it last week to send it to my wife.
—Son.
—Yes.
“Your brother has been setting this up since March of last year, son. Not just since the day of the transplant.”
Cavalier didn’t answer him for three seconds.
Then he stood up, walked over to the large window, and stared out at the covered garden on the west side, where the morning light streamed into the hallway of the wing where his wife was sleeping.
“Grandpa.”
“Yes.”
“One more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Lucía.”
Manuel slowly closed his eyes.
“Son, Lucía never acted alone.”
“I know. She partially confessed to it. But she said she came up with the plan herself—for work, to do her cousin a favor.”
“Son, she said that because your brother ordered her to. Lucía is a distant cousin of Vanessa’s on her mother’s side. Vanessa is your brother’s second cousin on the Cavalier side. The three lines intersected in March of last year when your brother recorded this studio session. Lucía moved into the mansion six weeks later. Zero coincidence.”
—And my mother-in-law?
—Your mother-in-law, son, was the victim of a plan your brother devised as soon as he realized you might be eligible for a heart transplant. Your brother didn’t need your mother-in-law’s heart to cure you. He needed a body to confirm to himself that the family’s plan was moving forward without him.
—Grandpa.
—Yes.
“Did you know about this?”
Manuel held his gaze for a long moment.
“I’d suspected it ever since the balcony attack. I confirmed it two weeks ago with a dossier Derek gave me. I was going to give it to you this Friday.”
—But you didn’t tell me sooner.
“No, son. Because I didn’t want to plant a suspicion in your mind without hard evidence. And because your brother was already in jail and couldn’t do any more harm.”
“Except for this one.”
“Except for this one.”
Cavalier handed the yellow folder to Manuel.
“Grandpa.”
“Yes.”
“You tell this to my wife.”
“Son.”
“Today. Before noon. You go upstairs, you explain it to her, you give her the report, and you answer whatever questions she asks. I’ll stay downstairs. If she needs me, she’ll call me.”
—All right, son.
At ten past eight, Manuel knocked on the door of the room in the west wing with the yellow folder under his arm.
“Sweetheart.”
“Manuel.”
“May I come in?”
“Come in.”
Manuel came in, closed the door, sat down in the chair next to the bed, and placed the folder on the blanket.
“Mendoza.”
—Yes.
“My grandson brought this for you, but he wanted me to give it to you. Read it when you have a chance. Here’s a quick summary. The audio you heard on Saturday was edited by Vanessa from the Hazelton federal prison last week. The original recording was made eight months ago by Marcelo, using a pocket microphone, while he was spying on us in this studio. My grandson didn’t know his brother had recorded that conversation.”
Laura held his gaze for five seconds.
“Manuel.”
“Yes.”
“And my mom?”
Manuel sighed.
“Sweetheart, your mom had Marcelo run her over. Not Lucía alone. Lucía drove the sedan because your brother-in-law ordered her to. Marcelo found out last March that my grandson could receive a heart. He pulled strings, made contacts, and mobilized people for months to speed up the process.” Your mom ran into me by chance at the Memorial in August. But when your mom and I arranged the marriage—without your brother-in-law knowing—he found out on the day of the transplant. And he got angry. And he had her killed beforehand so he wouldn’t lose control of the inheritance.
—Manuel.
—Yes.
“Are you telling me this today, or did you find out months ago?”
—I found out two weeks ago from a dossier Derek gave me. I was going to tell you this Friday with all the evidence. I’m telling you today ahead of schedule because your husband asked me to.
—Okay.
Long pause.
—Manuel.
—Yes.
“So my husband didn’t trade my mom’s heart.”
“No, sweetheart. My grandson, back in March of last year, didn’t even know your mom existed. I can confirm that with two calendars and a camera.”
—Manuel.
—Yes.
“Please leave the room. I need a few minutes alone.”
—All right, sweetheart.
Manuel stood up, kissed her forehead with dry lips, and left.
Laura locked the door. She sat on the edge of the bed with the folder on her lap. She opened it. She read three pages. She cried silently for six minutes.
Then she placed both hands on her belly.
“Baby.”
Pause.
“Baby, your dad didn’t cheat on us, sweetheart.”
Long pause.
“Mommy was wrong.”
She closed her eyes.
And at 8:42 a.m. on Thursday, in a room in the west wing of the Cavalier mansion, a woman four weeks pregnant and at risk of miscarriage realized that she’d spent the last four days hating the wrong man, and that the real bastard had been pulling her strings for months without anyone in the entire house seeing it coming.
She called the main study on the intercom.
“Cavalier.”
“Laura.”
“Cavalier, come up.”
"I'm coming."
She hung up.
And as she waited for the footsteps of the man she’d married by contract—and whom she’d learned to love in forty-one days—she picked up the bottle of vitamins Vargas had left for her on Saturday, poured herself a glass of water, and for the first time since the night of the bleeding, she opened the bottle and took the pill.