Chapter 16 - The Missing Masterpiece
With Marcela, Salcedo, and Dr. Salgado in custody, investigators expected the case to stabilize.
Instead, they discovered the most valuable painting was missing.
The Virgin of San Miguel.
The same painting Valeria first identified on the memory card.
The crate beneath the mansion was empty.
Shipping records showed it had been moved forty-eight hours before the hospital incident.
Destination unknown.
Camila believed Marcela had arranged one final sale before Valeria discovered the ledger.
The buyer’s identity was hidden behind an auction code.
Valeria recognized it.
“Luna Roja.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s not a person.”
“It’s a private sale event.”
Years earlier, Valeria had heard gallery directors whisper about Luna Roja.
An invitation-only market for collectors who wanted works with questionable histories.
No public catalog.
No official auction house.
Sales occurred during legitimate charity events.
Camila traced encrypted messages from Salcedo’s laptop.
A Luna Roja sale was scheduled in Mexico City.
Location.
The Museo de Arte Privado de Santa Lucía.
Date.
Three nights away.
The event was disguised as a restoration fundraiser.
Valeria knew the museum director.
More importantly, she knew how traffickers disguised stolen paintings.
They changed frames.
Removed catalog markings.
Added false restoration labels.
Sometimes they displayed replicas while negotiating for originals elsewhere in the building.
Camila needed Valeria’s expertise.
Alejandro refused immediately.
“She is pregnant.”
Valeria stared at him.
“Alejandro.”
“No.”
“Alejandro.”
“I almost lost you because of this.”
“And I almost lost myself because everyone kept deciding what I was allowed to do.”
He stopped.
The old pattern.
Protection becoming control.
He closed his eyes.
“What does Tomás say?”
Valeria almost smiled.
“He says I can attend for one hour if I stay seated whenever possible and avoid stress.”
Alejandro looked at Camila.
“She will have security.”
“Constantly.”
He looked back at Valeria.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
That evening, Valeria chose a simple dark blue maternity dress.
No expensive jewelry.
No Aranda diamonds.
Alejandro stood beside her.
“You look beautiful.”
She glanced at him.
“You thought I had a lover four days ago.”
His face tightened.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
“I probably deserve worse.”
“Yes.”
He almost laughed.
Then Valeria touched his hand.
“I’m still here.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“I know.”
“But I don’t know yet what that means for us.”
“I know that too.”
It was the most honest conversation they had had in years.
At the museum, guests moved through candlelit galleries.
Waiters carried champagne.
Collectors smiled.
Music played softly.
Valeria’s eyes scanned every frame.
Then she stopped.
Across the central gallery hung a painting of a woman holding a child.
Different frame.
Different title.
Different plaque.
But Valeria knew the cracked gold beneath the lower-left varnish.
Her breath caught.
“There.”
Camila followed her gaze.
Valeria whispered.
“That’s it.”
Then a voice behind her said.
“I was hoping you’d recognize your mistake.”
May you like
Valeria turned.
Doña Esther stood only a few feet away.
