“Are you okay, buddy?”
I nodded, although I was not okay.
Nothing was okay.
Attorney Stone remained standing next to the chest, observing everything with a grave expression. When Daniel finally calmed down, breathing heavily but still shaking, Stone spoke. His voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
“There is more.”
We all turned to see him.
He took another envelope from the chest.
“This one was red. Much more, and it has to do…”
He took a long pause, measuring his words.
“With the death of Mrs. Emily.”
Inspector Vargas looked at Attorney Stone with narrowed eyes.
“What do you mean, with the death of Mrs. Emily?”
Stone did not answer yet.
Instead, he looked toward the door.
“There is someone else who needs to be here.”
As if it had been a signal, there was a knock on the door. Agent Morales opened it.
And there was Henry.
My neighbor. My friend. My savior.
But he did not come alone.
Another policeman accompanied him. A uniformed officer.
“Inspector,” said the officer. “Mr. Henry Selena. We brought him as a witness, as requested by the attorney.”
Henry entered slowly with his heavy walk of an old bricklayer. He was carrying a shoebox under his arm, a common box, the kind where you keep old photos. He looked at me.
“Forgive me, buddy. I did not want you to find out like this, but I had to tell the truth.”
I did not understand what he was talking about.
Not yet.
The inspector pointed to a chair.
“Sit down, Mr. Selena.”
Henry obeyed, putting the box on the table carefully, as if it contained something sacred or something dangerous.
“I live in the apartment next to Mr. David. Apartment 202. We have been neighbors for three years.”
He cleared his throat.
“That building is old. The walls are thin. You hear everything. Fights. Televisions. Everything.”
He opened the box.
Inside was an old digital recorder, the kind journalists used years ago, and several cassettes.
“About five years ago, there were robberies in the building. I was robbed twice, so I put this in the hallway.”
He took out the recorder.
“Voice activation. It recorded when it detected loud sounds. For security.”
He looked at Daniel.
“I never thought I was going to record something like this.”
The inspector leaned forward.
“What did you record, Mr. Selena?”
Henry took out one of the cassettes. It had a date written in marker.
March 13th, 2024.
One week before my heart attack.
“This…”
He gave the cassette to Agent Morales.
“You need to hear it.”
Morales connected the old recorder to his laptop using an adapter.
The audio was low quality with static, but it was understandable.
Footsteps were heard.
Then voices.
“Are you sure about this?”
It was Sarah’s voice.
“Yes,” answered Daniel. “I cannot take it anymore. We need that money now.”
Sarah sighed.
“But your mom is not going to give you more. She already made it clear.”
Silence.
Footsteps.
Then Daniel spoke again, and what he said made my blood freeze.
“If the old man dies of a heart attack, nobody is going to suspect anything. He is already sick. He is already old. It would be natural.”
Sarah laughed a nervous laugh.
“Are you serious?”
Daniel did not answer directly.
“With him out of the way, my mom is going to feel guilty. She is going to want to compensate me. She is going to give me what I need.”
Another pause.
“And if he survives?” asked Sarah.
Daniel’s answer was cold as ice.
“Then we make sure he does not get help.”
I stood up so fast the chair fell backward. The sound of metal against the floor resonated in the whole office.
“You…”
My voice came out like a growl.
“You planned it.”
I walked toward Daniel. The guard still had him held, but I saw nothing else except his face.
That face that had once been my baby, my boy, my son.
“You planned to kill me?”
It was not a question.
It was a realization.
Daniel was shaking his head, frantic.
“No. No. Not me. We were talking nonsense. We were drunk.”
But Inspector Vargas was already taking notes.
“Mr. Alverde, do you confirm that is your voice on the recording?”
Daniel did not answer.
He just cried.
“And seven days after this conversation,” continued the inspector, looking at the documents he had in his folder, “Mr. David Alverde suffered an acute myocardial infarction.”
He looked at me.
“Is that correct?”
I nodded.
I could not speak.
My throat had closed up.
“And his son was contacted fourteen times. No answer.”
I nodded again.
The inspector turned to Daniel.
“Mr. Daniel Alverde, I need you to answer carefully. Did you receive your father’s calls on March 20th?”
Daniel was shaking.
“I… I was busy.”
“Did you receive them?”
The inspector’s voice was hard as stone.
“Yes,” Daniel whispered. “But I thought…”
“Thought what?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I thought he was exaggerating. That he wanted attention.”
The inspector wrote something down.
“And the call to your wife? Did you know about that one?”
Daniel opened his eyes. He looked at Sarah. She was shaking her head, crying.
“I did not know,” Daniel lied.
But Agent Morales took out another document.
“We have the call log from Mrs. Sarah’s phone. Three minutes after Mr. David’s call, there is an outgoing call of two minutes to Mr. Daniel’s number.”
Sarah stopped denying. She lowered her head.
And Daniel… Daniel could not lie anymore.
The guards let him go. There was no point in holding him. He was not going to attack anyone anymore. He had no strength left.
He let himself fall into the chair, defeated.
Pamela stood up abruptly. Her face was red, her hands closed in fists.
“Emily knew.”
Her voice came out like a scream.
“She told me.”
We all turned to look at her.
“A month before she died, she called me to her room. She was crying. She told me, ‘Pamela, I am afraid. I am afraid of my own son.’”
Her voice cracked, but she kept talking.
“I asked her why, and she told me that Daniel had asked her about her will. Not about what was in it. About when she was going to die.”
The silence was absolute.
“He asked her, ‘How much time do you have left, Mom? Months? Weeks?’”
Pamela looked at Daniel with pure contempt.
“And when she told him the doctors gave her six months, he smiled.”
She told me, ‘My son smiled when he knew I was dying.’”
Daniel was shaking his head.
“No. I did not. I just—”
But Pamela had not finished.
“And then he asked her if the will was already ready, if she had already signed everything, as if he was in a hurry. As if he could not wait for her to die.”
The door opened again.
It was Norma. Emily’s secretary.
She was wearing a black suit and thick glasses. The officer who was outside accompanied her inside.
“Ms. Norma Castle,” he announced.
Inspector Vargas stood up.
“Come in, Ms. Castle. We were waiting for you.”
Norma entered with confident steps. She looked at me and gave me a small nod, almost imperceptible. Then she looked at Daniel.
And in that look there was something frightening.
Knowledge.
Proof.
“Is it true?”
She answered with a clear voice.
“I was Mrs. Emily’s secretary for twenty years. I managed her schedule, her calls, her medical appointments.”
She took a notebook from her bag.
“On May 15th of this year, Mr. Daniel arrived at the house without warning. Madam was on a teleconsultation with her oncologist, Dr. Ruiz.”
She opened the notebook.
“I was in the office next to the bedroom. The door was ajar. I heard everything.”
Norma read from her notebook, although I think she did not need to read it. She probably had it memorized.
“Daniel knocked on the bedroom door. He entered without waiting for an answer. Madam signaled to him that she was on a call, but he did not care. He sat on the bed and waited.”
She turned a page.
“When madam hung up, Daniel asked her, ‘What did the doctor say?’ She answered that the cancer was advancing, that the treatment was not working.”
Norma looked up.
“And then Daniel asked something that froze my blood.”
She looked straight at Daniel.
“He asked, ‘And if you stop the treatment, do you die faster?’”
Pamela stifled a cry.
I felt as if I had been punched.
Norma continued.
“Madam froze. She told him, ‘Daniel, what kind of question is that?’ And he answered, ‘No, Mom. It is just that I thought maybe the treatment makes you suffer more. That maybe it would be better to let you go in peace.’”
Norma closed the notebook.
“But his tone was not concern. It was hope. As if he wanted her to say yes.”
Inspector Vargas stood up.
“Mr. Daniel Alverde.”
His voice was formal. Official.
“I need you to come with me to the station to give a formal statement.”
Daniel looked up with his eyes wide open.
“Statement about what?”
The inspector looked at him without emotion.
“Suspicion of attempted murder against your father. Possible participation in the acceleration of your mother’s death. And conspiracy to commit fraud.”
Sarah stood up screaming.
“You cannot arrest him. He did not do anything. All this is a lie.”
Agent Morales approached her.
“Ma’am, do you also need to come give a statement?”
Sarah tried to run, but Agent Morales grabbed her by the arm.
“Let me go. You have no right.”
The two guards helped Daniel stand up. He did not resist. He just looked at me.
And in that look there were so many things.
Fear.
Regret.
Hate.
Love.
All mixed together.
“Dad…”
He said just that.
“Dad.”
I did not answer.
I could not.
“Wait.”
Attorney Stone’s voice stopped everyone.
The guards let go of Daniel. Inspector Vargas turned around.
“What is it, attorney?”
Stone took out the red envelope he had mentioned before.
“Before you take Mr. Daniel away, there is something that must be read. These are direct instructions from Mrs. Emily.”
He opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a handwritten letter on thick ivory paper. Emily’s handwriting filled both sides of the sheet.
Stone looked at me.
“Mr. David, this letter is for you, but madam asked that it be read aloud in front of everyone present before any arrest.”
I felt my legs getting weak.
Henry helped me sit down.
The lawyer started reading.
“David, my love, if you are hearing this, it means they discovered the truth about Daniel. And now you have to make the hardest decision of your life.”
The lawyer continued reading with a slow voice, giving weight to every word.
“I know what my son did, or tried to do, and I know that you, with that noble heart you always had, are going to want to forgive him, because that is how you are.”
I closed my eyes.
Emily knew me.
Even after so many years, she knew me better than anyone.
“But I need to tell you something before you decide.”
Stone turned the page.
“Daniel did not act alone. And it is not the first time.”
The silence in the office became heavy, dense.
“Herbert, my second husband, died two years ago. They told me it was cardiac arrest. Natural, they said. He was seventy-two years old. He was diabetic. He smoked.”
The lawyer’s voice trembled slightly.
“But I found something. Weeks before dying, Herbert had changed his will.”
Pamela let out a whimper.
“What?”
Daniel raised his head suddenly.
“No. No.”
The lawyer kept reading, implacable.
“Herbert left instructions that if something happened to him, a part of his fortune, $45 million, would go to you, David.”
I could not believe what I was hearing.
“What? Why?”
My voice came out like a croak.
The lawyer raised a hand, asking me to wait.
“Herbert knew you, David. I talked to him so much about you that he felt he knew you. I told him how you worked three jobs so Daniel could study. How you sold everything you had to pay for his college. How you were left with nothing when we divorced because I kept everything.”
The letter continued.
“Herbert was a good man. Better than me, without a doubt. And he told me, ‘That man deserves something for everything he gave.’ So he modified his will three weeks before dying. He did it in secret. I did not know until later.”
Stone paused to drink water.
We all waited.
“But here is the strange thing, David. Two days after signing that new will, Herbert started feeling bad. Dizziness. Nausea. Confusion. The doctors thought it was his diabetes, but he got worse fast. Too fast. A week later, he was dead.”
The lawyer’s voice was barely a whisper now.
“And when I checked his things, I found this.”
Stone took another document from the red envelope.
“A letter that Herbert left me. Unopened. It said, ‘Only open this if you suspect something.’”
Pamela was crying.
I could not move.
Herbert’s letter said:
“Emily, if you are reading this, it is because I died sooner than expected. I want you to know something. Your son Daniel came to see me two weeks ago. He asked me about my will. He thought it was strange that I was going to leave money to a stranger. I told him that David was not a stranger to me, that he was more worthy than most people I know.”
The lawyer looked up.
“And here comes the important part.”
He read again.
“Daniel got angry. He told me that money should be his, that he was your son, not David. Then he asked me how much time I had left to live, and if my diabetes could be accelerated.”
Inspector Vargas stood up abruptly.
“What did he say?”
The lawyer read the last lines of Herbert’s letter.
“Emily, I do not want to alarm you, but your son scares me. If something happens to me, please investigate. Ask what Daniel was doing the weeks before my death. Check his movements. And above all, protect David, because if Daniel was capable of thinking about hurting me, I do not know what else he will be capable of.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Daniel was white as a sheet. Sarah was crying with her hands on her face.
Inspector Vargas took out his phone.
“I am going to need Mr. Herbert’s medical records now.”
He looked at Daniel.
“And a search warrant for his house and his bank accounts.”
He turned to Agent Morales.
“This is no longer just an attempt. This is a homicide investigation.”
Daniel fell to his knees.
“No. Not me. I never—”
But nobody believed him.
Not even he believed himself anymore.
Attorney Stone put the letters away and took out another document. This one was official, with seals and signatures.
“This is the will of Mr. Herbert Lara. Certified. Authenticated. Irrevocable.”
He read the relevant part.
“He left $45 million in a trust for Mr. David Alverde.”
He looked at me.
“Added to the 178 million from Mrs. Emily…”
He did the math mentally.
“That is $223 million for you.”
Two hundred twenty-three million dollars.
I could not process it.
Me, who had lived in a two-room apartment in the old neighborhood.
Me, who had worked as a waiter at seventy years old.
Me, who had to borrow a suit from my brother-in-law to come to this meeting.
Henry squeezed my shoulder.
“Buddy…”
He could not say more.
Pamela was crying and smiling at the same time.
“Mr. David… Mrs. Emily loved you. She always loved you.”
And Daniel… Daniel was looking at me from the floor with an expression of absolute horror, because he had just understood he had not only lost everything.
I had won everything.
Daniel crawled toward me.
Literally crawled on his knees, with his hands extended.
“Dad. Dad, please.”
His voice was a wail.
“Help me. Please help me. Do not let them take me, please. I… I did not want to. I only…”
He could not even finish the sentence. He was just crying. Tears. Snot. Everything mixed together.
“Dad, you are good. You have always been good. Forgive me. Forgive me and help me.”
Sarah was screaming from where she was.
“David, please. He is your son. Your only son.”
Inspector Vargas looked at me. His expression was neutral, but there was something in his eyes.
Curiosity, perhaps.
Or respect.
“Mr. David,” he said with a formal voice, “I need you to answer a question. Do you press formal charges against your son, Daniel Alverde, for attempted murder?”
The question floated in the air like a death sentence.
Everyone was looking at me.
The inspector. Agent Morales. Dr. Herrera. The guards. Pamela. Henry. Norma. Attorney Stone. Sarah.
And Daniel. My son. At my feet. Holding on to my legs like when he was five years old and had nightmares.
“Dad, do not let go. Do not leave me.”
That is what he used to tell me.
And I never let go.
Not when Emily left me.
Not when he stopped talking to me.
Not when he humiliated me in that restaurant.
Not when he left me alone on my kitchen floor.
I never let go because he was my son.
I looked at the inspector. I opened my mouth. The words weighed like stones.
Daniel squeezed my legs tighter.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”
And I remembered everything.
His first step.
His first word.
Dad.
The day I held him in the hospital, newborn, and promised him I would always protect him. That I would never leave him alone. That I would never abandon him.
Even when he abandoned me.
I took a deep breath.
And I answered,
“No.”
My voice came out stronger than I expected.
Daniel raised his head with eyes full of hope.
The inspector frowned.
“You do not press charges?”
I shook my head.
“No. Not yet.”
Daniel let out a sob of relief.
But I had not finished.
I leaned forward, looking my son straight in the eyes.
“Not yet. Because first I need answers. I need you to tell me why. Here. Now. In front of everyone.”
Daniel blinked, confused.
“Why? What?”
I stood up. He had to let go of my legs.
“Why did you hate me so much? Why did you want to see me dead? Why did your own mother have to keep a gun in her house because she was afraid of you?”
My voice rose in volume.
“Why, Daniel? What did I do to you? What the hell did I do to you to deserve this?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
And Daniel… Daniel was finally going to tell the truth.
He stood up slowly. His knees cracked. His face was red, swollen from crying. He wiped his nose with his jacket sleeve.
And then he exploded.
“What did you do to me?”
His voice came out like a roar.
“Oh, you really want to know what you did to me?”
He walked toward me with closed fists. The guards tensed up, but the inspector stopped them with a gesture.
“Let him talk.”
Daniel stopped inches from my face.
“You abandoned me. I was twelve years old. Twelve. And one day you came home and said you were leaving. That you did not love us anymore. That you had met someone else.”
I blinked.
“What?”
That was not true. None of it was true.
“You act like you do not know.”
Daniel laughed.
A bitter, broken laugh.
“My mom told me. She sat me on my bed and told me, ‘Your dad is leaving, son. He met another woman. He is going to have another family. We are not important to him anymore.’”
I felt as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice water on me.
“That is a lie.”
My voice barely came out.
“I never… never said that.”