Chapter 7 - MY FATHER’S VOICE

The cassette began with a click.

Then a scrape, as if someone had moved it across a table.

I sat between Fuentes and my mother in a hospital consultation room.

A technician had preserved the recording before playing us a copy.

For several seconds, we heard nothing but room noise.

Then my father spoke.

“You can threaten me all you want. The numbers won’t change.”

I had forgotten his voice.

That was what hurt.

Not the words.

The sudden realization that I had spent twenty-two years remembering a face without its sound.

My mother covered her mouth.

Another man answered.

Hector.

“You think a ledger makes you better than me?”

“I think those families deserve their money.”

“You signed company documents too.”

“Which is why I’m giving them everything.”

A chair scraped.

Then a younger voice.

Jorge.

“You have a wife. A boy. Think about what happens to them when you make this public.”

My father answered immediately.

“Keep them out of it.”

“Then stay out of our business.”

The recording ended less than a minute later.

No confession.

No explanation for his death.

But the threat was there, plain enough to make the room feel smaller.

My mother cried without making a sound.

I took her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.

“You didn’t do this.”

“I helped them get close.”

“You loved your wife.”

“I stopped listening to you.”

At that, she looked at me.

“Yes,” she said. “You did.”

I nodded.

I needed the truth more than forgiveness.

Fuentes waited until we were ready.

“The hospital results are back,” she said.

My mother’s hand tightened.

“The substance found in the cup is consistent with the toxic exposure identified in your blood. The medication containers from the house are still being examined.”

“Can you arrest Karina?”

“We’re building the evidence around who handled what, and when. We need the case to hold.”

My mother stared at the table.

“She watched me drink.”

The words were almost soundless.

I couldn’t answer.

My phone vibrated.

Karina had sent a photograph of us from our wedding.

Beneath it, she wrote:

Whatever my father tells you, remember I chose you.

I turned the screen toward Fuentes.

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Before she could speak, another message arrived.

We need to talk before he decides you’re just like Rodrigo.