Chapter 4 - The Man Behind the Car
“Valentina, stay with me.”
Andrés carried her through the front doors of Montoro House as two security men raced ahead.
The black Maybach was still waiting.
Its driver opened the rear door before Andrés reached the steps.
“Hospital,” Sebastián ordered from behind them. “San Gabriel. Dr. Navarro is expecting her.”
Andrés climbed into the car with Valentina in his arms.
Her face was colorless.
Her fingers gripped his jacket.
“The baby…”
“I know.”
“No.” Her voice broke. “You don’t.”
The driver slammed the door.
The Maybach accelerated.
Andrés looked down.
Blood stained Valentina’s champagne dress.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to erase every thought about money.
The board.
Solterra.
The financing facility.
All of it disappeared.
“Look at me.”
Valentina squeezed her eyes shut.
“Valentina.”
“I’m looking.”
“You’re going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“But I’m here.”
Her eyes opened.
For a second, something passed between them.
Pain.
History.
And something Andrés no longer had the right to name.
Then Valentina turned toward the window.
“I need my phone.”
“It’s at the house.”
She immediately tried to sit up.
“Stop.”
“My phone.”
“I’ll have Sebastián send it.”
“No.”
Andrés stared at her.
“It’s a phone.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand you’re bleeding.”
“Andrés—”
“Nothing on that phone matters more than this.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“You’re wrong.”
He remembered the message.
DO NOT LET ANDRÉS SEE THE FILE.
“What file?”
Valentina froze.
Andrés saw it.
“What file did your doctor mean?”
She looked away.
“You saw the message.”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
“It appeared on the screen.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
“You’re carrying my child.”
“That does not make my medical records yours.”
“I’m not asking for your medical records. I’m asking why your obstetrician specifically told you not to let me see something.”
Valentina breathed through another cramp.
Her hand tightened over her abdomen.
Andrés forgot the question instantly.
“Is it happening again?”
She nodded.
He reached toward the intercom.
“Faster.”
The driver answered calmly.
“Six minutes, sir.”
“Make it four.”
“We’ll make it safely.”
Andrés almost shouted.
Then Valentina’s hand touched his wrist.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Please.”
That single word stopped him.
He sat back.
Five minutes later, the Maybach entered a private hospital entrance.
A medical team was already waiting.
The moment the door opened, everything moved quickly.
Valentina was transferred to a stretcher.
A nurse asked questions.
“How many weeks?”
“Twenty-six,” Valentina answered.
“Any previous bleeding?”
Valentina hesitated.
“Yes.”
Andrés looked at her.
The nurse continued.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
His stomach dropped.
“You never told me.”
The nurse glanced between them.
Valentina closed her eyes.
“Not now.”
They wheeled her through double doors.
Andrés followed.
A nurse blocked him.
“Sir, you need to wait.”
“I’m the father.”
“Are you her husband?”
The question struck harder than it should have.
Andrés looked through the doors.
“No.”
Not anymore.
The nurse’s expression softened.
“Then we need Ms. Reyes’s permission.”
Before the doors closed, Valentina spoke.
“Let him come.”
The nurse stepped aside.
Andrés entered.
For the next twenty minutes, he stood against a wall while strangers examined the woman he had spent ten years believing he understood.
Blood pressure.
Ultrasound.
Medication.
Questions.
The fetal monitor filled the room with a rapid heartbeat.
Andrés stared at the screen.
His child.
Alive.
Valentina watched the ceiling.
Dr. Navarro entered.
She was in her fifties, calm and direct.
She greeted Valentina first.
Then looked at Andrés.
Her expression changed slightly.
“So,” she said.
“You’re Andrés.”
He noticed the tone.
Not Mr. Talamantes.
Not sir.
Andrés.
“You know me?”
“I know of you.”
He almost asked from whom.
Then realized how stupid the question would sound.
The doctor turned to Valentina.
“The heartbeat is strong.”
Valentina exhaled.
“And the bleeding?”
“We’re checking.”
“Is the baby in danger?”
“Right now, there’s no sign of immediate fetal distress.”
Andrés felt his knees weaken.
He sat down.
The doctor continued.
“I want you here overnight.”
Valentina nodded.
“No arguments?”
“Not today.”
“Good.”
Dr. Navarro glanced at Andrés.
“Can I speak with my patient privately?”
Valentina looked at him.
He understood.
“I’ll wait outside.”
The corridor felt too quiet.
Andrés paced.
His phone had twenty-three missed calls.
He called Martín.
“What happened?”
Martín didn’t bother with greetings.
“Banco Nacional froze the facility.”
Andrés stopped.
“How much total?”
“Three hundred seventy million inaccessible.”
“Payroll?”
“Covered.”
“For how long?”
“Six weeks if nothing else moves.”
“Solterra?”
“Dead unless we replace the financing.”
Andrés rubbed his forehead.
“The board?”
“They’re discussing emergency leadership.”
Meaning him.
“They want me out.”
“They’re scared.”
“Same thing.”
“Andrés, where are you?”
“Hospital.”
Silence.
“Valentina?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Martín’s tone changed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Keep the company alive until morning.”
“I’ll try.”
“No. Do it.”
He ended the call.
The hospital doors opened.
Sebastián Montoro appeared.
Not in his wheelchair.
A security man pushed him slowly down the corridor.
And behind him walked the Maybach driver.
Andrés recognized the man again.
He had been at the hotel.
At Montoro House.
Always nearby.
Sebastián stopped.
“How is she?”
“Stable.”
“And the baby?”
“Heartbeat is strong.”
The old man closed his eyes.
Relief.
Then Andrés noticed the driver holding Valentina’s phone.
He stepped forward.
“I’ll take that.”
The driver did not move.
Sebastián looked at him.
“Give it to me, Gabriel.”
Gabriel.
Andrés finally placed the face.
The Montoro Foundation gala.
A private investor conference in Madrid.
A negotiation in New York.
Gabriel had been present at all three.
Not merely driving.
Watching.
“Who are you?”
Gabriel looked at Andrés.
“Gabriel Soto.”
“I got the name.”
Sebastián sighed.
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now.”
Andrés pointed toward him.
“He’s not a driver.”
“No.”
Gabriel remained calm.
Andrés looked at Sebastián.
“What does he do?”
“Protects Valentina.”
“From what?”
“Whatever requires protecting her from.”
Andrés laughed bitterly.
“Was he watching me?”
Gabriel answered.
“Sometimes.”
The honesty shocked him.
“For how long?”
“Nine years.”
Andrés stepped closer.
“You followed my wife for nine years?”
“I protected her.”
“Without my knowledge.”
“Yes.”
“Did she know?”
“Of course.”
Andrés looked through the glass toward Valentina’s room.
Another piece of her life.
Another secret.
“How many people were around us that I thought were something else?”
Sebastián’s expression hardened.
“This isn’t the moment for wounded pride.”
“My entire marriage apparently had security surveillance.”
“Your marriage had a woman whose wealth made her a kidnapping target.”
That silenced him.
Sebastián continued.
“Valentina refused visible security because she wanted a normal life. Gabriel was the compromise.”
Andrés looked at Gabriel.
“You were at our wedding.”
“Yes.”
“As what?”
“Catering security.”
“And our honeymoon?”
“Two rooms down.”
Andrés stared.
Gabriel showed no embarrassment.
“Did she ever have a threat?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“What threat?”
Gabriel looked at Sebastián.
Then at Andrés.
“Someone attempted to obtain Valentina’s travel schedule.”
“Who?”
“We never confirmed.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Valentina asked us not to.”
That answer again.
Andrés almost exploded.
Then Dr. Navarro opened the door.
“Mr. Talamantes.”
He turned.
“You can come back.”
Sebastián moved forward.
The doctor stopped him gently.
“She asked for Andrés.”
Sebastián looked surprised.
So did Andrés.
He entered.
Valentina was sitting slightly upright.
Her face had regained some color.
The fetal monitor continued its reassuring rhythm.
Andrés approached slowly.
“What did she say?”
“The baby is stable.”
He exhaled.
“The bleeding came from a small placental separation.”
His relief disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need rest and monitoring.”
“Can it happen again?”
“Yes.”
“Can it hurt the baby?”
Valentina looked at him.
“Yes.”
Andrés sat beside the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the first bleeding?”
She was silent.
“Three weeks ago.”
“I remember.”
“I would have come.”
“Would you?”
The question was quiet.
He stared at her.
“Of course.”
“You were in New York.”
“I would have flown back.”
“You didn’t fly back when I asked you to attend the twenty-week scan.”
“I had a board meeting.”
“Exactly.”
He had no defense.
Valentina looked at the monitor.
“I stopped asking.”
Andrés followed her gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes.
He had apologized to investors.
Employees.
His father.
Business partners.
But saying those words to Valentina felt different.
Too small.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
She opened her eyes.
“For what?”
He almost said everything.
Instead:
“For not being there.”
Valentina’s expression softened.
Then disappeared again.
“You wanted this divorce.”
“I know.”
“You told me a child wouldn’t fix us.”
“I know.”
“You said you needed freedom.”
“I know.”
“So don’t become a different man because you got scared for twenty minutes.”
That hurt because it was fair.
“I don’t know what kind of man I am right now.”
“That’s something you’ll have to figure out.”
He nodded.
Silence.
Then Andrés remembered.
“The file.”
Valentina’s body stiffened.
He saw it immediately.
“I’m not asking because I want control.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“It concerns the baby.”
She looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because your obstetrician sent the message during a medical emergency.”
Valentina’s fingers curled around the blanket.
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because today is not the day.”
“Everyone keeps deciding what I can handle.”
“This isn’t about what you can handle.”
“Then what?”
She looked toward the door.
“Consequences.”
The word chilled him.
“Is the baby mine?”
Valentina’s face changed.
Not guilt.
Pain.
Deep pain.
Andrés regretted the question instantly.
“Yes.”
Her voice was sharp.
“Never ask me that again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
He stood.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did. For one second, you did.”
She turned away.
Andrés felt ashamed.
“Valentina.”
“I need rest.”
He nodded.
He reached the door.
Then she spoke.
“The file isn’t about paternity.”
He turned.
She still faced the window.
“What is it about?”
She hesitated.
“Something I discovered during the pregnancy.”
“About the baby?”
“Yes.”
Fear returned.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Valentina looked at him.
“The baby is healthy.”
He waited.
“That’s all I’m telling you tonight.”
Andrés wanted to push.
For once, he didn’t.
He stepped into the corridor.
Sebastián was gone.
Gabriel remained.
“Where is he?”
“Taking a call.”
“Give me Valentina’s phone.”
“No.”
“She’s awake.”
“I’ll give it to her.”
Gabriel walked into the room.
Andrés watched him place the phone beside Valentina.
She immediately checked it.
Her eyes widened.
She looked toward Andrés through the glass.
Then typed something.
Seconds later, Andrés’s own phone vibrated.
A message from Valentina.
DON’T LEAVE THE HOSPITAL.
He looked through the glass.
She was staring at him.
He entered again.
“What happened?”
Valentina held up her phone.
“There was an access attempt.”
“To what?”
“My medical records.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can Gabriel trace it?”
“He’s trying.”
Andrés’s phone rang.
Eduardo.
He answered.
“What?”
“I found something strange.”
“What?”
“The hospital file.”
Andrés froze.
“How do you know about that?”
“I don’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was searching the sealed corporate schedules.”
“And?”
“One of them references a medical contingency trust.”
Andrés looked at Valentina.
She could hear Eduardo’s voice.
Her face drained of color.
“Keep talking.”
“The beneficiary is redacted.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Because the trust was amended six months ago.”
“When Valentina became pregnant.”
“Yes.”
Andrés’s grip tightened.
“Who created it?”
“That’s the strange part.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t Valentina.”
“Then who?”
Eduardo paused.
“Your father.”
Andrés stared at the wall.
“My father created a medical trust for my unborn child?”
“I don’t know if it’s for the child.”
“Then find out.”
“I’m trying.”
The line went silent for several seconds.
Then Eduardo spoke again.
“Andrés.”
“What?”
“There’s another signature.”
“Whose?”
“I can’t see the full name.”
“Initials?”
Eduardo zoomed in.
“R.T.”
Andrés stopped breathing.
Rafael Talamantes.
His father.
Then another possibility occurred to him.
“No.”
“What?”
“Send me the page.”
The document arrived.
Andrés opened it.
R.T.
But the signature did not resemble Rafael’s.
He had seen his father sign documents his entire life.
This was different.
A woman’s handwriting.
He enlarged the scanned page.
Below the signature was a typed line that had been partially obscured.
ROSA T—
Andrés stared.
His mother’s name had been Rosa Talamantes.
She had died twelve years ago.
Two years before he met Valentina.
He looked up.
Valentina was watching him.
“What?”
He showed her the screen.
Her expression collapsed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You knew.”
She said nothing.
“You knew my mother?”
Valentina closed her eyes.
Andrés stepped closer.
“How?”
Before she could answer, the hospital door opened.
Rafael Talamantes stood there.
He looked at the document on Andrés’s phone.
Then at Valentina.
His face went gray.
“Andrés,” he said quietly.
“No more secrets.”
Rafael shut the door behind him.
“There’s something you need to know about your mother.”
Andrés stared at him.
Rafael reached into his coat.
He removed a small sealed envelope.
The handwriting on the front belonged to a dead woman.
Andrés recognized it instantly.
His mother.
Across the envelope she had written only five words.
FOR MY SON. BEFORE THE BABY.
Rafael held it out.
Andrés reached for it.
Then Valentina suddenly whispered his father’s name.
“Rafael, don’t.”
The envelope was already open.
Something slipped from inside.
A photograph landed faceup on the hospital floor.
Andrés looked down.
May you like
His mother was standing beside Valentina’s parents.
And in Rosa Talamantes’s arms was a newborn baby.
