Chapter 5 - THE SAFE IN VICTOR'S OFFICE
The next morning, I went to work carrying my father's silver watch in my purse.
It was Monday.
Five days before Andrew planned to remove me from Casa Encino.
I had never felt more frightened walking into that building.
But something had changed.
For three months, I'd been apologizing for mistakes I hadn't made.
That morning, I walked past the showroom mirrors without lowering my eyes.
Monica was already at the front desk.
She looked at me.
Then at the watch chain hanging from my purse.
Her face tightened.
“Laura, can we talk?”
“Not here.”
She swallowed.
“Andrew says you're refusing the leave.”
“I haven't agreed to anything.”
“He's getting impatient.”
I stopped beside a display of oak dining tables.
“And what are you getting, Monica?”
Her eyes filled.
“Please don't do this in front of everyone.”
I almost laughed.
She'd helped convince my coworkers I couldn't handle my own job.
Now she wanted privacy.
“I won't embarrass you,” I said. “But I won't protect you from the truth anymore.”
For a moment, she looked genuinely ashamed.
Then she whispered, “There's something about Elena you need to know.”
I turned.
“What?”
“She's not coming back from Dallas today.”
“Why?”
“Because Andrew told her Victor was preparing to remove her from the company.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why would he say that?”
Monica looked toward the staircase.
“Because he wants Elena frightened enough to cooperate.”
Before I could ask more, Andrew appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Laura. My office.”
His tone carried across the showroom.
Several employees looked up.
I followed him upstairs, determined not to let my hands shake.
Inside his office, he closed the door.
On his desk lay the same leave-of-absence form.
Beside it was a new document.
A written warning.
“What's this?” I asked.
“A final opportunity to handle things professionally.”
I read the warning.
It listed the seven customer complaints.
Three missing purchase orders.
And several unauthorized refunds.
My name appeared on every page.
“I'm not signing this.”
Andrew folded his arms.
“Laura, we've reached the point where refusing to cooperate is making you look worse.”
“Then let the auditors investigate.”
His face went still.
“What auditors?”
“The ones who can verify whether those refunds were legitimate.”
He leaned forward.
“Be careful.”
“About what?”
“You have no idea how serious this could become.”
For once, I didn't look away.
“Maybe I understand more than you think.”
His expression hardened.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I'm asking for a fair investigation.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he picked up the warning.
“Fine. But don't say I didn't try to help.”
I left his office feeling sick.
Not because he'd frightened me.
Because he'd used the same voice he once used when helping me through grief.
Gentle at first.
Then disappointed.
Then threatening.
I wondered how many people he'd treated that way without my noticing.
At ten thirty, Victor asked me to come upstairs.
Daniel was waiting.
The office door was closed, and Victor had placed a small wooden box on his desk.
Inside lay an old iron key.
“You were right about the safe,” Victor said.
I looked at him.
“It's still here?”
He nodded toward the antique cabinet behind his desk.
“The original office safe was built into it. I haven't used it for regular records in years.”
Daniel stood beside us.
“We shouldn't touch anything without documenting it.”
Victor agreed.
He photographed the cabinet, the lock, and the sealed compartment.
Then he opened the safe with his key.
Inside were old company ledgers, several envelopes, and a green leather binder.
I recognized my father's handwriting on the binder's label.
Encino — 1997.
My throat tightened.
Victor placed the binder on his desk.
“I should've shown you this years ago.”
Inside were records of my father's loan.
He had provided $70,000 when Casa Encino was facing foreclosure.
The money came from savings he and my mother had spent decades building.
My father had never been wealthy.
He worked overtime.
He repaired our car himself.
He wore the same winter coat for fifteen years.
And he'd put nearly everything he had into saving someone else's business.
“Why?” I whispered.
Victor looked at the photograph of the first warehouse.
“Because twenty-three employees would've lost their jobs. Your father knew most of their families.”
I wiped my eyes.
“That sounds like him.”
Daniel examined the agreement.
“Victor, this references a contingent equity arrangement.”
Victor nodded.
“I was supposed to formalize it after the company recovered.”
“Did you?”
“We executed additional paperwork later.”
Daniel turned another page.
There was an amended agreement dated 2001.
It stated that my father's five-percent interest would remain effective until redeemed by a properly documented settlement.
The redemption required signatures from both parties or their authorized estates.
“Where's the settlement?” Daniel asked.
Victor opened a drawer.
He removed a photocopy.
The document bore my mother's name.
And Andrew's signature as a witness.
It claimed Rosa Ramirez had accepted $48,000 as full satisfaction of the family's interest.
Daniel read it carefully.
Then he looked at me.
“Laura, when did your mother die?”
I told him.
He checked the date.
His expression darkened.
“This document was executed two weeks afterward.”
Victor went pale.
“I thought the date reflected when the paperwork was filed.”
Daniel shook his head.
“It identifies the signing date.”
I stared at the page.
Andrew hadn't merely taken money.
He'd used my dead mother's name to extinguish my family's claim.
Victor sat down heavily.
“I trusted him.”
“So did I,” I whispered.
Daniel photographed the document.
“We need originals, bank records, and an independent examination. This may establish a serious forgery, but we can't treat a photocopy as the final answer.”
Victor nodded.
Then Daniel pointed toward a handwritten note inside the binder.
“There's another issue.”
The note was dated shortly before my father's death.
It stated that Victor and my father had agreed that future distributions attributable to the ownership interest would be held for Laura's benefit.
My heart stopped.
“Distributions?”
Victor looked ashamed.
“Over the years, Casa Encino became profitable. I intended to make sure your family received what it was owed.”
“How much?”
“I don't know the current total. We need to reconcile the accounts.”
I looked at the amended agreement.
For years, Andrew had told me we needed to save more.
He'd criticized small purchases.
He'd complained when I helped my younger sister pay for dental work.
And all that time, he might have been hiding money that belonged to my family.
I felt something inside me harden.
“Victor, I need a copy of everything.”
“You'll have it.”
Daniel carefully closed the binder.
“There's one final document we need to find.”
“What document?”
“The original settlement authorization Andrew submitted. The photocopy lists a custodial file number.”
He pointed at the bottom of the page.
EA-17.
Victor frowned.
“That's Elena's department.”
I remembered Monica's warning.
Andrew had frightened Elena into believing her father intended to remove her.
Perhaps he had convinced her to approve something she didn't understand.
Or perhaps she had known all along.
At noon, Daniel received a secure report from the bank.
He read it silently.
Then his face changed.
“Victor, Laura, you need to see this.”
The report identified the recipient of the $48,000 cashier's check issued after my mother's death.
The money had not gone into an account belonging to Rosa Ramirez.
It had been deposited into a business account controlled by a recently formed company.
Its name was printed in bold letters.
M. REYES PROPERTY HOLDINGS LLC.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Monica's maiden name was Reyes.
And suddenly, I understood why my best friend had been able to renovate her apartment without ever explaining where the money came from.
