Chapter 13 - THE MAN INSIDE MY COMPANY
The senior project manager who emailed me was named Manuel Estevez.
He had worked at Horizonte for seven years.
I had promoted him twice.
He had attended my daughter's baptism and sent flowers when my father died.
That was why his message frightened me.
We met in a locked conference room with Elena, Tomas, and Horizonte's compliance director present.
Manuel looked as though he had not slept.
"I need to tell you something before Andres tells it differently."
I folded my hands.
"Start at the beginning."
He swallowed.
"He contacted me about four months ago."
That was the same period when Andres hired the private investigator.
"Why?"
"He said he wanted general market intelligence."
"About Horizonte?"
"About hospitality assets."
"Did you give it to him?"
Manuel nodded.
"At first, only public things."
"Then?"
"He started paying me consulting fees."
Tomas closed his eyes briefly.
"How much?"
"Ten thousand pesos a month."
"For four months?"
"Yes."
"Through whom?"
"PTV Consultores."
Patricia's company appeared again like a stain that kept spreading beneath paint.
"What information did you provide?"
Manuel slid a flash drive across the table.
"Everything is there."
Compliance took it without plugging it into anything.
"Tell me anyway."
He stared at his hands.
"Property acquisition calendars."
"Confidential?"
"Internal, but not highly restricted."
"What else?"
"Board meeting dates."
"What else?"
"Names of people assigned to San Jeronimo."
My jaw tightened.
"What else?"
"He asked whether Horizonte planned to sell hospitality properties in Queretaro."
"What did you tell him?"
"That the board had rejected a general sale program."
That fact had never been public.
"Did you tell him who could approve an exception?"
Manuel nodded.
"The board and majority shareholder."
"Did he ask who that was?"
Another nod.
I felt the room become colder.
"When did you tell Andres I was the majority shareholder?"
Manuel's voice fell.
"Seven weeks ago."
Seven weeks.
Not yesterday.
Not after the Altura meeting.
Seven weeks ago.
Andres had known who I was before the hacienda party.
He had known when he laughed at Patricia's leftovers.
He had known when he called me jealous of his success.
He had known while telling his family I showed cheap apartments.
The cruelty had not survived ignorance.
It had survived knowledge.
"Are you certain he understood?"
Elena asked.
"Yes."
Manuel unlocked his phone and opened a message backup.
One message from Andres read: SIXTY-ONE PERCENT PERSONALLY THROUGH HOLDINGS?
Manuel had replied: YES, ACCORDING TO THE INTERNAL CAP TABLE.
Another message followed.
DOES LUCIA CONTROL ALTURA TOO?
Manuel answered: HORIZONTE IS MAJORITY INVESTOR, BUT I DON'T KNOW DAY-TO-DAY CONTROL.
Andres responded with four words.
DO NOT TELL HER.
I read the exchange twice.
Then another message appeared.
I WANT TO SEE HOW LONG SHE KEEPS LYING.
My stomach turned.
"He knew about Altura."
Manuel nodded.
"At least the ownership relationship."
"Before the note matured."
"Yes."
"Before he filed claiming surprise."
"Yes."
Elena leaned back slowly.
Rafael's legal theory had just acquired a serious credibility problem.
I kept scrolling.
Andres asked whether Horizonte would ever sell San Jeronimo without a full board vote.
Manuel replied that a strategic transaction could theoretically be approved through delegated authority if the price and buyer met certain criteria, but he did not know whether San Jeronimo qualified.
Andres asked for the criteria.
Manuel sent an old internal policy.
"That is how he designed the fake sale."
My voice sounded distant to me.
Manuel nodded miserably.
"I think so."
"Did you know?"
"Not then."
"When did you know?"
"At the party."
I stared at him.
"You were there?"
"No."
"Then how?"
"Andres sent me a photo of himself at the hacienda."
Manuel opened another message.
WE DID IT.
Beneath the words was a photograph of Andres standing under the hacienda's stone archway holding a folder labeled PURCHASE CLOSING.
"What did you say?"
"I told him Horizonte had not approved a sale."
"And?"
"He said it was being handled above my level."
"You knew that was false."
"I suspected."
"Did you report it?"
Manuel looked down.
"No."
Anger rose through me so sharply that I had to grip the edge of the table.
"Why?"
"Because by then I had taken his money."
At least he did not insult me with a noble excuse.
"Then why are you here now?"
"Because Patricia called me last night."
"What did she want?"
"She told me to delete our messages and say I gave Andres the information because you instructed me to."
Tomas swore softly.
"Did you agree?"
"I said I needed time."
"And then?"
"She said people who betray the Villasenors stop working in Queretaro."
Manuel looked at me.
"I have two kids."
Again, children appeared at the edge of an adult's fear.
Patricia seemed to understand exactly where to press.
"Did you delete anything?"
"No."
"Did you alter anything?"
"No."
"Did you give Andres financial statements, passwords, investor data, or personal employee information?"
"No."
Compliance would verify that later.
For now, I believed only what evidence could support.
Before I suspended Manuel, compliance asked him to describe every system he had accessed for Andres.
The list was longer than I wanted.
He had opened property summaries, acquisition calendars, internal contact directories, and two board-preparation folders.
He insisted he never downloaded full financial statements.
Our logs would decide whether that was true.
"Did Andres ever ask for my travel schedule?"
I asked.
Manuel looked ashamed.
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you give it to him?"
"Only the cities."
"When?"
"Three times."
Those dates matched three of the private-investigator photographs.
Andres had not merely followed me randomly.
He had combined paid internal information with surveillance.
"Did you know he hired an investigator?"
"No."
"Did Patricia ask for schedules too?"
"Once."
"What did she say she needed them for?"
"She said she was planning a surprise family dinner."
Camila would have called that the least convincing lie in Mexico.
I did not smile.
Compliance then showed Manuel a log from the San Jeronimo folder.
His credentials had opened the property disposition policy at 2:13 a.m. on a Sunday.
"Were you working then?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Did you share your password?"
"Never."
"Did you stay logged in somewhere?"
His face changed.
"I used Andres's office computer once."
The room went silent.
"Why?"
"He asked me to help him review a market deck."
"Did you sign into Horizonte systems?"
"Yes."
"Did you log out?"
"I thought I did."
Our security director made a note.
The possibility was ugly but useful.
If Andres had captured an active session or stored browser token, the internal leak might be larger than Manuel's intentional disclosures.
"What else did you access from his office?"
"A board calendar and the disposition policy."
"Anything with digital signatures?"
"No."
"Contract templates?"
Manuel hesitated.
"One external-originator template."
That answer would matter later in ways none of us yet understood.
Compliance collected the devices Manuel voluntarily provided through counsel and shut down every active session tied to his credentials.
Within an hour, security found attempted access from an IP address associated with Villasenor Urban Holdings.
The login failed because we had already revoked the token.
Someone at Andres's office tried to enter my company's system after Manuel was sitting in front of me confessing.
The betrayal was no longer historical.
It was still moving.
I looked at Manuel and remembered the first building he had helped us rescue from a failed contractor.
He had worked three nights without complaint because thirty-two families were waiting to move into those apartments.
People are harder to categorize when they have done good work before they betray you.
That did not make the betrayal smaller.
It made it sadder.
"Did Andres ever ask whether I was planning to divorce him?"
Manuel nodded.
"Once."
"What did you say?"
"That I had no idea."
"Did he ask whether I had moved money away from him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I told him I could not see your personal finances."
Compliance logs supported the limits of his access.
Still, the idea of my husband shopping for information among my employees made my skin crawl.
Andres had been building a private version of me from fragments purchased from anyone willing to sell them.
I looked at Manuel one last time as a colleague I had trusted.
Then I became his employer.
"You are suspended effective immediately."
Manuel's face fell.
"I understand."
"Your access is terminated while compliance investigates."
"I understand."
"Do not contact Andres or Patricia except through counsel."
"I won't."
He stood.
Then he looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
I did not tell him it was okay.
It was not.
"Cooperate fully."
That was all I offered.
After he left, I remained seated.
Tomas spoke first.
"This helps on the note."
"It also means Andres knew who I was at the party."
"Yes."
"He knew the hacienda belonged to my company."
Elena looked at the messages.
"He knew Horizonte had not approved a sale."
"And he still told ninety people he bought it."
My phone vibrated.
Sofia's child-safe phone was calling.
It was the middle of Andres's scheduled parenting time.
I answered immediately.
"Sweetheart?"
Sofia whispered.
"Mom, Dad brought us to Grandma's."
I stood.
"Is Dad with you?"
"He went outside with Uncle Federico."
"Where is Valentina?"
"Next to me."
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
Her voice trembled.
"But Grandma locked the dining room door."
Everything in me went cold.
"Why?"
"She says we have to listen to the family before we can go home."
I was already reaching for my bag.
"Stay on the phone with me."
Then Patricia's voice appeared in the background.
"Who are you calling?"
Sofia did not answer.
"Give me that phone."
May you like
The line went dead.
