Chapter 6 - Unearthing the Skeletons
The failed ambush in the parking garage had catastrophic consequences for the De la Vega family.
The driver of the luxury sedan, terrified of facing twenty years as an accessory to attempted murder, turned state’s evidence within two hours of his arrest. In exchange for immunity, he handed over his encrypted phone, which contained three separate voice notes from Adrián de la Vega detailing the exact specifications of the attack: *“Break both her wrists. Make sure she can’t sign any court documents. If she resists, run her down with the car.”*
Judge Ramírez immediately revoked Adrián’s bail. A nationwide manhunt was launched at dawn, but the De la Vega heir had vanished, spirited away by his mother’s remaining loyalists into one of their dozen private properties scattered across the Iberian peninsula.
Meanwhile, Sofia and I spent seventy-two hours straight locked inside the forensic accounting department of the National High Court, working alongside three senior financial investigators.
We weren't just looking at the hijacked marine patents anymore. We were looking for the bodies.
“Elena, you need to see this,” Sofia said, rubbing her exhausted eyes as she beckoned me over to a glowing workstation. It was three in the morning, the floor littered with empty espresso cups and scattered spreadsheets.
On the monitor was an old patient admission record from the Sanatorio Nuestra Señora de la Paz, a private, ultra-exclusive psychiatric facility tucked away in an isolated valley of the Catalan Pyrenees, near the French border.
The patient’s name was Valeria Montalbán.
“Who is she?” I asked, leaning over Sofia’s shoulder.
“Six years ago, Valeria Montalbán was engaged to Adrián de la Vega,” Sofia replied, clicking open an archived society column from 2018.
The screen displayed a photograph of a radiant, beautiful woman with honey-blond hair and an aristocratic smile, standing beside a younger Adrián at a yacht club in Marbella. She looked proud, glowing with the same naive joy I had felt when Adrián first slipped that diamond ring onto my finger.
“The official story,” Sofia continued, “was that Valeria suffered a nervous breakdown two days before their wedding, called off the nuptials, and relocated permanently to Argentina to escape the public eye. Her family’s boutique luxury brand was absorbed into the De la Vega retail portfolio shortly after.”
I frowned, looking closer at the admission records. “If she went to Argentina, why is her name on a medical manifest in the Pyrenees dated four months ago?”
Sofia leaned closer to the screen. “Because she never left Spain. Her family went bankrupt fighting Cayetana in private arbitration. Cayetana used a corrupt medical tribunal in Lleida to declare Valeria mentally incompetent, citing severe bipolar depression and self-harm tendencies. They placed her under permanent conservatorship—controlled entirely by the De la Vega Foundation.”
The horror of the realization settled heavily in the room.
“They didn't just buy her silence,” I whispered, nausea rising in my throat. “They locked her away.”
“For six years,” Sofia nodded grimly. “Valeria’s father was the primary investor in the De la Vega real-estate expansion in Madrid. When he discovered that Cayetana was using his shell corporations to launder money for Russian cartels, he threatened to go to the tax authorities. Two weeks later, he died in a single-car accident on the AP-7 highway. Valeria tried to expose them, and Adrián… well, Adrián handled her just like he tried to handle you.”
“Except Valeria didn't know karate,” I murmured.
“And Valeria didn't have an encrypted micro-camera streaming to the High Court,” Sofia added. “Elena, the director of this sanitarium, Dr. Hugo Barrena, is on Cayetana’s private payroll. He receives four hundred thousand euros a year under the guise of ‘neurological research grants.’ That facility isn't a hospital. It’s an aristocratic dungeon.”
I stared at Valeria’s photograph. Her bright, hopeful eyes looked back at me through the screen, frozen in a time before the De la Vega family crushed her spirit, took her family’s wealth, and buried her alive in the mountains.
“Does she know anything about the maritime accounts?” I asked.
“She was the corporate secretary of the De la Vega offshore umbrella before she was institutionalized,” Sofia said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “If she is alive, and if she is lucid, her testimony wouldn't just send Adrián to prison for assault. Her testimony would allow us to seize every single asset Doña Cayetana possesses under the Organized Crime Act. It would eradicate the De la Vega dynasty from the face of the Earth.”
“Then we’re going to the Pyrenees,” I said, straightening up and reaching for my leather jacket.
Sofia grabbed my arm. “Elena, wait. We can’t just march in there with a warrant. Barrena’s legal team will file injunctions to delay an inspection for weeks. If Cayetana realizes we found Valeria, that poor woman will suffer a ‘fatal cardiac event’ before the police even reach the valley gates.”
I looked at Sofia, my jaw set like carved granite.
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“Who said anything about waiting for a warrant?” I asked. “My father didn't just teach me how to fight, Sofia. He spent ten years running covert supply drops for naval intelligence. You prepare the judicial emergency extraction team. I’m going to make sure Valeria is still breathing when you arrive.”
***