Chapter 7 - MARTA'S STORY
Gabriel found Marta before midnight.
She lived with her sister twenty minutes away.
When she learned I was home, she came immediately.
The moment she saw Isabella, she began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
she whispered.
Isabella ran to her.
That was all I needed to see.
Marta hugged her carefully.
Then she looked at me.
“I tried to call you.”
“I never received anything.”
“I sent emails.”
“Messages.”
“I called your Dubai office.”
Every message had gone through Mateo’s administrative system.
He controlled my schedule.
My travel calls.
The gatekeeping around the Dubai project.
He had intercepted everything.
Marta described the first six weeks after I left.
Beatriz began dismissing staff one by one.
She accused Lucia of stealing wine.
She accused Antonio of damaging a car.
She reduced the cleaners’ hours before terminating them.
But their salaries continued appearing on the expense sheets.
Marta noticed.
She confronted Beatriz.
The next day, she found Isabella scrubbing a bathroom floor.
“I told her this was not acceptable.”
Marta said.
“Beatriz told me Isabella needed discipline.”
“I said I would call you.”
“And then?”
“Mateo came.”
“He told me my employment was terminated immediately.”
“He offered me money if I signed a confidentiality agreement.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
That mattered.
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
Marta handed Gabriel a folded document.
The agreement had been drafted by a law firm I did not recognize.
It prohibited Marta from discussing household finances or “private family disciplinary decisions.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“That phrase alone is extraordinary.”
Marta continued.
She tried calling local child services.
But before she could make a formal report, Beatriz brought Isabella to stay at a resort in Portugal for four days.
I remembered the trip.
Beatriz sent me photographs.
Pool.
Beach.
Smiling Isabella.
I thought they were bonding.
Marta believed Beatriz took her away so investigators would find nobody at home.
Then I remembered something.
In those photographs, Isabella wore long sleeves.
In August.
“How long has this been happening?”
I asked.
Marta looked at my daughter.
“Worse for the last month.”
“But she started controlling Isabella almost immediately after you left.”
I felt guilt rise again.
Marta saw it.
“You trusted your wife.”
she said.
I did not need comfort.
I needed facts.
“Who else knew?”
Marta hesitated.
“The driver.”
“Rafael?”
“He saw Mateo leaving the villa at night.”
“He told me Beatriz ordered him to keep quiet.”
“Where is Rafael?”
“Nobody knows.”
Gabriel and I looked at each other.
One missing employee could be coincidence.
Two was not.
Then Marta reached into her bag.
“There is something else.”
She handed me a small memory card.
“I took it from the kitchen camera before Beatriz had the cameras removed.”
I stared at it.
“You have footage?”
“Only one day.”
“What day?”
“The day she fired me.”
May you like
Marta’s expression hardened.
“And the day Mateo told Isabella that if she ever called you, he would make sure you never came home.”
