Chapter 5 - THE WARNING THAT NEVER REACHED LORENZO
I sat beside Lorenzo's bed.
Not close.
Close enough.
“What warning?”
He swallowed.
“Vehicle systems.”
“Your car?”
He nodded slightly.
“Mateo found replacement modules.”
“I know about one report.”
“More.”
My heart began pounding.
Lorenzo explained slowly.
Sixteen months earlier, his convoy experienced an unexplained steering failure.
Minor.
No crash.
Mateo Reyes examined the vehicle through Vantage.
He found mismatched serial numbers.
Counterfeit electronics.
He prepared a report.
Sent it to Moretti security.
Lorenzo never saw it.
Months later, another vehicle developed a braking error.
Another Mateo report.
Still nothing.
Then Mateo somehow obtained Lorenzo's private number.
“He called me.”
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
My stomach dropped.
The week Mateo died.
“What did he say?”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
“He said someone inside my security chain was replacing parts after inspection.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What did you do?”
The silence gave me the answer.
Not enough.
Lorenzo looked ashamed.
“I told Dominic to investigate.”
Of course.
The man Mateo was warning about.
“Mateo died three days later.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Not until afterward.”
“And then?”
“Dominic said garage accident.”
I stood.
“So you believed him.”
“Yes.”
Anger burned through me.
“You're supposed to be terrifying.”
Elena froze.
Lorenzo didn't.
I continued.
“You're supposed to know everything.”
His voice remained weak.
“I don't.”
“Apparently.”
“Clara.”
“You handed my husband's warning back to the man he was warning you about.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That stole some of my anger.
Not all.
“Why didn't you investigate yourself?”
“Because I trusted him.”
Lorenzo looked toward the machines.
“I built a system where trust meant not asking twice.”
Then:
“Mateo paid for that.”
My eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“And maybe so did I.”
The crash.
I sat again.
“What did Mateo leave?”
Lorenzo asked.
“I don't know.”
“Tools?”
“Yes.”
“Computer?”
“Destroyed in the fire.”
“Phone?”
“Police returned it. Damaged.”
He thought.
“Multimeter?”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Mateo told me he kept copies inside something nobody steals.”
I remembered his toolbox.
Still beneath my bed.
Screwdrivers.
Diagnostic meter.
Old black multimeter wrapped with yellow tape because Mia once dropped it.
I left the estate immediately.
Isabella sent security.
I refused.
She asked once more.
I accepted one car behind me.
Progress.
At my apartment, I pulled Mateo's toolbox from the closet.
The multimeter looked ordinary.
I removed the battery cover.
Nothing.
Then noticed one screw was newer.
Inside the plastic casing, beneath the circuit board—
a microSD card.
My hands started shaking.
I did not put it into my laptop.
For once, grief did not outrun caution.
We gave it to an independent forensic laboratory.
The files contained photographs.
Serial numbers.
Invoices.
Video from Mateo's phone.
And one audio recording.
Dominic's voice.
“You were paid to inspect cars, Mr. Reyes. Not ask who ordered the parts.”
Mateo:
“People can die.”
Dominic:
“Then stop giving them reasons to.”
The recording ended.
I stopped breathing.
Lorenzo listened from his bed.
His face became completely still.
Then:
“My cousin killed your husband.”
I looked at him.
“We can prove he threatened him.”
“Not murder.”
“No.”
Lorenzo stared toward the window.
Old Lorenzo might have ordered Dominic dragged upstairs.
May you like
Instead:
“Call the prosecutor.”
