“They’re ready,” she said. “New routing numbers. Trust transfers at 9:01 a.m.”
“The moment banks open,” Croft confirmed. “He’ll be served at his hotel at 9:30. Merry Christmas, Alejandro.”
Isabel looked at a smiling family photo on her desk, now nothing but decoration. Then she got to work.
Her suspicion hadn’t begun with a whispered rumor. It began with a number.
Six months earlier, Isabel noticed a €75,000 transfer from her parents’ trust to an unfamiliar company: Moreno Group SL. Alejandro—who “helpfully” managed the trust—laughed it off as a smart investment tied to sustainable tech. He sounded convincing, even affectionate.
He was lying.
Isabel researched like she did when inspecting load-bearing walls: thoroughly, quietly, without drama. Moreno Group SL was newly registered. Its address was a rented office. Its name led back to Beatriz Moreno—28, ambitious, and employed by a rival firm.
Then came the photo: Beatriz laughing on a boat. The man beside her wore Alejandro’s distinctive Breitling—an anniversary gift. The photo was tagged on a weekend he’d claimed he was at a retreat.
The affair didn’t destroy Isabel. It clarified her.
Because the money mattered more than the romance. This wasn’t just cheating. It was theft—using her family’s wealth to bankroll secrets.
So she documented everything. New devices. Burner phone. Separate accounts. A meeting with Elizabeth Croft, whose office felt less like a law firm and more like a war room.
