Chapter 5 - THE FILE HIDDEN IN THE SEWING BOX
Catherine had kept the sewing box for twelve years.
It was wooden.
Scratched.
Missing one brass handle.
Her grandmother had given it to her before she married Victor.
Inside were needles.
Thread.
Buttons.
And a small envelope hidden beneath the lining.
Catherine hadn't opened it in three years.
She'd been afraid.
Not of what it contained.
Of what would happen if Maris discovered she still had it.
That afternoon, Victor visited the small apartment Catherine shared with Annie.
He brought groceries.
Nothing extravagant.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Fruit.
Milk.
Bread.
Catherine watched him place the bags on the table.
“You don't have to do that.”
Victor looked at her.
“I know.”
She studied him.
“Then why?”
“Because I should have been doing it all along.”
She looked away.
Annie sat on the floor drawing.
Victor knelt beside her.
“What are you making?”
“A house.”
He smiled.
“Whose house?”
“Ours.”
His heart tightened.
The drawing showed three people holding hands.
A little girl.
A woman.
A man.
Victor swallowed.
“That's beautiful.”
Annie smiled.
“Can you put it on your fridge?”
He nodded.
“Of course.”
Catherine watched them.
Her expression softened.
But only slightly.
Later, when Annie fell asleep, Catherine brought out the sewing box.
She placed it on the table.
Victor stared.
“What is that?”
“Something your mother wanted.”
She opened it.
Removed the false lining.
And took out a folded document.
Victor examined it.
A property acquisition agreement.
Signed five years earlier.
His father's signature appeared at the bottom.
So did Maris's.
But the property had belonged to a community housing cooperative.
Victor frowned.
“I remember this project.”
Catherine nodded.
“Santa Elena.”
He stared.
“The redevelopment.”
She looked at him.
“Do you remember the families who were displaced?”
Victor hesitated.
“Compensation was paid.”
Catherine shook her head.
“Not to everyone.”
She placed another document beside it.
A payment ledger.
Several entries had been altered.
Others were missing.
Victor stared.
“What is this?”
“Proof that the compensation fund was diverted.”
He looked up.
“By whom?”
Catherine's eyes filled.
“Your mother.”
Silence.
Victor stared at the records.
Catherine continued.
“I found it while reviewing the project accounts.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
He looked at her.
She smiled sadly.
“You were in Monterrey.”
Victor closed his eyes.
She continued.
“I told Maris I wanted to speak with you.”
Her voice trembled.
“She told me to keep quiet.”
Victor looked down.
“I didn't.”
“No.”
Catherine stared.
“She said if I exposed the documents, she'd make sure I lost Annie.”
Victor felt cold.
“She couldn't do that.”
Catherine laughed bitterly.
“She had lawyers. Money. Connections.”
Her eyes filled.
“I had a four-year-old daughter.”
Victor looked at the documents.
For the first time, he understood.
His mother hadn't simply wanted Catherine out of the family.
She'd wanted the evidence gone.
And when Catherine refused to surrender it, Maris destroyed her marriage.
Victor took a breath.
“Do you still have the originals?”
Catherine nodded.
“Some.”
He looked at her.
“Then we need a lawyer.”
She studied him.
“Not one who works for your mother.”
Victor nodded.
“Agreed.”
For the first time in three years, Catherine saw something in his face she had almost forgotten.
The man who once believed doing the right thing mattered more than protecting the family name.
But she wasn't ready to trust him.
May you like
Not yet.
And Victor knew he would have to earn that trust.
