PART4

“No.”

I looked directly at him.

“Show me the contract.”

He hesitated.

“Why?”

“Because if you’re asking me for over a million dollars, I want to know what you’re investing in.”

My father interrupted.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Then neither is my money.”

Gabriel looked at our father.

Something passed between them.

It was brief, but I noticed it.

They weren’t simply uncomfortable about discussing the investment.

They were afraid of something.

I had spent seven years learning how to recognize that expression in business meetings.

It usually appeared when someone was hiding a problem that could become expensive.

“Gabriel,” I said quietly. “Where is the contract?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket.

“I don’t have it with me.”

“Who is the developer?”

“Northbridge Urban Partners.”

I repeated the name.

“Northbridge Urban Partners?”

“Yes.”

“Who owns it?”

“Some investors.”

“Who?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know every detail.”

I turned toward my father.

“You reviewed the contract, correct?”

Richard hesitated.

“Yes.”

“Then you know the company.”

“Of course.”

“Who is the managing director?”

He didn’t answer.

I looked at Gabriel again.

“What’s the address of the development?”

He gave me a street name.

I opened my laptop.

I had access to property records, corporate filings, and a team of analysts who could verify a business in minutes.

I didn’t need to use all of that.

I simply searched the company’s name.

Within seconds, several results appeared.

I clicked on the first public business listing.

Then the second.

Then a corporate filing.

My expression changed.

Not because I was surprised by what I saw.

Because I was beginning to understand why my family had come to my hotel demanding exactly $1.1 million.

“Gabriel?”

“What?”

“How long have you been involved with this company?”

“About four months.”

“Have you already paid anything?”

He looked at my father.

That was enough.

“How much?”

“Nothing significant.”

“How much, Gabriel?”

He muttered something.

I couldn’t hear him.

“Speak clearly.”

“Forty-five thousand.”

My father immediately jumped in.

“That was a deposit. It was necessary to secure the partnership.”

I looked at him.

“Where did the forty-five thousand come from?”

“Personal savings.”

“Whose savings?”

Silence.

I turned toward my mother.

She looked away.

That was when I realized the situation was worse than I had initially thought.

“Mom?”

She folded her hands.

“Your father and I helped him.”

“With your savings?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

She didn’t answer.

I looked at Gabriel.

“How much money has the family already invested?”

He finally said it.

“One hundred and eighty thousand.”

I stopped typing.

One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

My father had lost his construction materials business years ago.

My mother had never worked outside the home.

Gabriel was twenty-six and had never held a stable job for more than a year.

Where had that money come from?

I looked at Martha.

She suddenly became uncomfortable.

Then my father spoke.

“We borrowed some of it.”

“From whom?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It matters if you’re asking me to put another million dollars into the same project.”

Gabriel slammed his palm against the table.

“You’re not listening! This is an opportunity!”

“Then show me the documents.”

“We don’t have time!”

“Why?”

“Because Monday is the deadline!”

I looked at the clock.

It was already late Friday evening.

“Who set the deadline?”

“The developer.”

“Why?”

Gabriel’s face tightened.

I closed my laptop halfway.

“Gabriel, listen carefully. A legitimate investment doesn’t become a good investment simply because someone gives you a deadline.”

He shook his head.

“You always have to make everything complicated.”

“No. I have to make sure I don’t lose a million dollars.”

My father walked toward the door.

“We’ve heard enough.”

I remained seated.

“Then you should leave.”

He turned around.

“You think you’re better than us now?”

“No.”

“You’re acting like you don’t owe your family anything.”

I looked at him.

“Seven years ago, I had one suitcase, four thousand eight hundred dollars, and nowhere to sleep.”

He said nothing.

“I worked three jobs. I cleaned hotel rooms. I answered reservation calls. I carried luggage. I studied accounting at night because I couldn’t afford to stop working.”

My voice remained steady.

“I slept in a room smaller than this office. I ate instant noodles because I needed to save money. I made mistakes. I lost money. I nearly closed my first business twice.”

My mother stared at me.

I continued.

“And not once did any of you ask if I was okay.”

Richard looked away.

“So no, Dad. I don’t think I’m better than you. I simply stopped expecting you to rescue me.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Gabriel spoke.

“You’re really going to let us walk out of here with nothing?”

I looked at him.

“You’re walking out with exactly what you brought in.”

He shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Perhaps.”

I stood and opened the door.

Thomas, the security supervisor, was waiting outside.

“Everything okay, Ms. Arístegui?”

“Yes, Thomas. Please escort our guests to the lobby.”

My father stopped beside me.

He leaned close enough that only I could hear him.

“You’ll regret humiliating your own family.”

I looked straight into his eyes.

“Then perhaps you should stop confusing consequences with humiliation.”

He walked away.

My mother followed.

Martha was last.

But Gabriel lingered in the doorway.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite understand.

“Chloe.”

I waited.

“Can we talk tomorrow? Just you and me?”

I studied his face.

“About what?”

He lowered his voice.

“Something I couldn’t say in front of Dad.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Then he added six words that made me reconsider everything.

“I think we’re being set up.”

My stomach tightened.

“What do you mean?”

He looked over his shoulder to make sure our parents were gone.

Then he whispered:

“The company isn’t what Dad thinks it is.”

Before I could ask another question, he stepped into the hallway.

“Please. Tomorrow.”

And then he disappeared.

I stood there for several seconds, listening to the sound of their footsteps fading through the lobby.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

I returned to my office and called Daniel, my chief financial officer.

“Daniel, I need a favor.”

“Of course. What’s happening?”

“Have you heard of a company called Northbridge Urban Partners?”

He was silent for a moment.

Then I heard his keyboard.

“Give me a second.”

I waited.

A few seconds passed.

Then he spoke again.

“Chloe, why are you asking about them?”

“Someone in my family is involved with them.”

His voice immediately changed.

“How involved?”

“Apparently, my brother has invested forty-five thousand dollars. My parents and aunt may have contributed more.”

Daniel stopped typing.

“Chloe, I need you to listen carefully.”

“What?”

“We received a preliminary risk alert about that company two weeks ago.”

I sat down.

“What kind of risk alert?”

“Unverified ownership claims. Inconsistent project documentation. And a potential dispute involving the property they’re advertising.”

I looked at my laptop.

“Do they have an active development?”

“That’s what we’re trying to establish.”

“Daniel, I need everything you can find. Corporate registration, ownership, directors, previous projects, litigation, financial records. Everything available through legitimate channels.”

“Understood.”

“And Daniel?”

“Yes?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART5…