Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO TRIED TO ERASE MY NAME
"She planned this."
I stared at the red circle around my name.
Victoria hadn't discovered my identity when I confronted her backstage.
She'd known before the gala began.
She'd deliberately tried to keep me away from the piano.
Julian examined the photograph.
"Who took this?"
"The scholarship office's administrative assistant," Mercedes answered, reading the file information. "It was attached to Sofia's interview record."
I looked at Julian.
"How many people knew?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then find out."
My voice was sharper than I'd intended.
Julian didn't object.
"You're right."
He turned to the foundation's records administrator.
"Preserve that attachment, including its original date and file history. Nobody edits or removes anything."
The administrator nodded.
Then Julian looked at me.
"Carolina, I need you to understand something. We're dealing with more than a disputed composition now."
"I know."
"Someone used a scholarship application to identify a potential challenge to the foundation's ownership claims."
"And punished my sister."
"Yes."
I thought about Sofia sitting at our kitchen table, believing she wasn't talented enough.
That hurt worse than anything Victoria had said to me.
By four that afternoon, my own job was in danger.
Mercedes and I were called into the hotel director's office.
Mr. Patel had supervised major events at the hotel for nearly fifteen years.
He wasn't an unreasonable man.
But he looked deeply uncomfortable.
"Carolina, Victoria Luján has submitted a formal complaint."
"What kind of complaint?"
"She alleges that you accessed confidential event materials without authorization and publicly challenged a donor."
I stared at him.
"She put my mother's music on the piano."
"I understand there's a disagreement."
"It's not a disagreement about the seating arrangements, sir."
Mercedes spoke before I could continue.
"I approved Carolina's use of the piano after the scheduled musician became unavailable."
Mr. Patel nodded.
"That part isn't in question."
"Then what is?"
He folded his hands.
"Victoria is threatening to withdraw several major bookings. Until we review her allegations, I'm placing Carolina on paid administrative leave."
The words stung.
Not because I was losing a shift.
Because someone who had stolen my mother's music was now determining whether I could work.
Mercedes leaned forward.
"You're suspending the employee who saved your event?"
"I'm protecting the hotel while we establish the facts."
I stood.
"Then please preserve the ballroom recordings. All of them."
Mr. Patel looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because I'm tired of being accused of things nobody wants to verify."
He promised the footage would be retained.
Mercedes walked me out.
In the hallway, she stopped.
"Carolina, I should have spoken up sooner."
"You did speak up."
"Not when Victoria first insulted you."
I looked at her.
"You couldn't have known what was happening."
"No. But I knew she was humiliating someone who'd done nothing wrong."
For the first time that day, I felt something soften inside me.
"Thank you."
That evening, Julian arranged a meeting with Evelyn Price, a sixty-eight-year-old former employee of the foundation.
She had managed its musical archives for almost two decades.
We met in a small conference room rather than at the gala hotel.
Evelyn arrived carrying a worn leather briefcase.
Her silver hair was pinned neatly behind her ears.
When Julian introduced us, she studied my face.
"Elena Reyes's daughter?"
I nodded.
Her expression changed.
"Your mother had beautiful handwriting."
I nearly cried.
It was such a small thing to remember.
But nobody at the foundation had said my mother's name with affection before.
Evelyn opened her briefcase.
"I cataloged Elena's original submissions years ago. She sent five compositions, each signed and dated."
"Do you remember who reviewed them?"
"Victoria Luján was on the acquisitions committee."
My throat tightened.
"So she knew."
"She certainly had access."
Evelyn explained that the foundation maintained two records of each submitted composition.
One was the original manuscript.
The other was a digital archive entry.
"The original author information should never have been deleted," she said.
"Was it?"
"Not immediately."
She placed an old archive inventory on the table.
Five titles.
Five submission dates.
Five author credits.
Elena Reyes.
I touched the page.
For the first time, I saw my mother's name in the foundation's own records.
Evelyn continued.
"Six years ago, those entries were revised. They were moved into the foundation's acquired catalog."
"Who authorized the change?" Julian asked.
"The acquisition department."
"Who requested the original manuscripts?"
Evelyn hesitated.
"That's where things become complicated."
She opened another folder.
Inside was an archive checkout record.
It contained the date, the manuscript identification numbers, and a signature.
Julian leaned forward.
His face lost its color.
I read the name beneath the signature.
Then I looked at him.
"Julian?"
He didn't answer immediately.
May you like
Evelyn spoke quietly.
"The person who personally checked out your mother's original manuscripts was Julian Alcazar."
