Matthew didn't move when Elena backed away.
She simply left the phone face down on the seat, as if hiding the name could erase what she had seen.
"You know her," Elena whispered.
The truck behind them flashed its headlights twice.
The driver glanced quickly in the rearview mirror.
“Sir, they’re signaling us.” Elena reached for the doorknob, but Matthew grabbed her wrist before she could pull. He didn’t squeeze hard. He didn’t hurt her. In some ways, he made things worse.
"If you jump now, they'll catch you in thirty seconds," he said.
"What if I stay with you?" For the first time, her calm expression cracked.
“Then maybe you’ll survive long enough to find out why your mother-in-law has been calling me all week.” Elena looked at him; rain streamed down the tinted window next to her face. The road turned sharply toward a row of old warehouses, far from the city, far from witnesses. Matthew opened a small compartment between the seats and took out a sealed brown envelope.
Her name was written on it.
Elena Vargas.
Her breath caught in her throat.
-What is this?
Matthew looked at the envelope as if it weighed more than money, more than secrets, more than guilt.
"Something your father left behind before he died." Elena shook her head.
—My father died with nothing.
"That's what Isabel wanted you to believe." The truck approached, almost brushing against the bumper.
Matthew's driver swore under his breath and swerved to avoid a broken lamppost. The envelope slid onto Elena's lap.
Inside, beneath an old photograph, was a sealed document bearing the name of his father's company.
And on the last page, where Elena expected to see Isabel's signature, she saw a name that chilled her blood...
