Chapter 8: The Brother Who Stayed Silent
Rodrigo lived forty minutes north of us, in a rented house on a street lined with old oak trees.
Claudia had given me his number.
He had agreed to meet, but only in person.
I drove up on Sunday morning while Sofía was at Renata's.
He opened the door before I reached the step.
He was taller than Daniel, broader through the shoulders, with the same dark eyes but none of Daniel's careful composure.
He looked like a man who had stopped performing a long time ago.
"Verónica."
"Thank you for seeing me."
He stepped back to let me in.
The house was quiet and clean and had the particular order of someone who lives alone and has made peace with it.
A child's drawing was pinned to the refrigerator.
Mateo's, I guessed.
A yellow house with a very large dog.
We sat at the kitchen table.
He had a folder in front of him.
He didn't open it yet.
"Claudia told me what happened with Sofía," he said.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry.
She used to do that with us too.
Not often.
But the belt was always there."
I looked at him.
"Daniel never told me you existed."
He nodded slowly, as though this confirmed something he had long suspected.
"She told him to cut contact when I started asking questions about the estate.
He chose to do it." He paused.
"I don't say that to make you think badly of him.
He's not a cruel man.
He's a man who learned very early that keeping his mother happy was the path of least resistance.
He's been walking that path his whole life."
"It's a path that led to a f0rged document with my name on it."
"Yes." He was quiet for a moment.
"I should have fought harder four years ago.
I know that.
But she threatened Mateo's access to me, and I—" He stopped.
"I chose my son over the money.
I don't regret that.
But I regret letting her believe she could keep doing it."
"She did keep doing it."
"I know." He opened the folder.
"This is everything my lawyer compiled.
Originals.
Not copies."
I looked at the stack of documents.
Thicker than what Claudia had sent me.
"There's something here you won't have seen," he said.
He pulled a single page from near the back.
"This is a statement from a former employee of Fuentes's notary office.
A woman named Delia Rios.
She worked for him for six years.
She left in 2019.
Before she left, she kept records."
He slid the page toward me.
It was a signed statement.
Dated.
Witnessed.
Delia Rios stated that during her employment she had personally witnessed Fuentes certify signatures on at least seven documents without the named signatory being present.
She named Teresa Alvarez as the client in five of those instances.
She had kept photocopies of three documents as personal insurance.
"She was afraid to come forward," Rodrigo said.
"Teresa knew where she lived.
She knew her family."
"Is she still afraid?"
"I called her Friday night.
After Claudia told me what you found." He met my eyes.
"She said she's been waiting for someone to ask."
Something shifted in my chest.
"She'll testify?"
"She'll provide a formal statement.
Her lawyer is already drafting it."
I set the page down carefully.
"Why didn't you use this four years ago?"
"I didn't have it four years ago.
Delia only reached out to me last year.
By then I had already settled.
My lawyer said reopening it would be expensive and uncertain." He folded his hands.
"But your case is fresh.
And now there are two of us."
"Rodrigo." I looked at him directly.
"If you come forward with this — if you let your original case be part of the record — Teresa will come after you again.
She'll threaten Mateo."
"Mateo is thirteen now," he said.
"Old enough to have his own opinions.
Old enough to testify, if it came to that, about what he has seen in that house." He paused.
"He already told me he wants to.
He told me last night."
I thought about Mateo in the living room on Friday.
Putting the doll down when I asked.
Saying *I'm sorry* in a voice barely above a whisper.
Nine years old, and already carrying things a child shouldn't have to carry.
"He's a good kid," I said.
"He is." Rodrigo's voice was steady.
"He deserves better than what she's made him afraid of."
I gathered the documents he had pushed toward me.
"My lawyer's name is Patricia Osei.
She's expecting to hear from you this week."
"I'll call her Monday."
I stood to leave.
At the door, Rodrigo stopped me.
"Verónica.
Daniel is going to have to choose."
"I know."
"He's never chosen against her before."
"I know that too."
"Whatever he decides—" He paused.
"It doesn't change what she did.
And it doesn't change what you have now."
I drove home with the folder on the passenger seat.
The oak trees on his street threw long shadows across the road.
Somewhere in her immaculate house, Teresa was still waiting for Daniel to fix it.
She didn't know yet that Delia Rios had kept records.
May you like
She didn't know yet that Rodrigo had picked up the phone.
She didn't know that the thing she had counted on most — the silence of people she had frightened — was already breaking apart.
