The Vanishing of the Montero Heirs and the Law of Retribution
“Never,” he said, throwing the paper back onto the desk. “I will never sign that.”
“Then the magistrate will receive the second set of files tomorrow,” I said.
“There are no other files,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
“There are,” I said. “The ones from the Geneva office. The ones Matthew kept in his personal safe.”
Alvaro looked at the window, his reflection pale against the dark glass.
He looked like a man who had suddenly run out of air.
“You planned this,” he whispered. “From the very beginning.”
“No,” I said. “Not from the beginning. Only since I realized what you were.”
“I loved you, Ines,” he said, turning back to me.
“You loved the image of us,” I said. “You loved having a lawyer for a wife who could clean up your messes.”
He reached for the desk, leaning his weight against the heavy wood.
“If I sign this,” he said, “what do I get?”
“You get to stay out of Soto del Real,” I said. “For now.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath.
“And the money?” he asked. “The Horizonte shares?”