I couldn't sleep that night.
The adrenaline from the close call in the parking lot had left my mind in overdrive. But as the city outside my apartment hummed with the usual noise, I forced myself to focus. I had one more piece of the puzzle to look at—the last document on the USB drive. The one I hadn't dared open yet.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I felt the weight of the decision. Whatever was on that file could change everything. It could put me on a path I couldn't walk back from.
I clicked.
The document was a transcript of a recorded meeting between Judge Beltrán and someone named M. Torres. The name didn't ring any immediate bells. But the content was like a bombshell, a secret too dangerous to remain hidden.
"We need to make sure the files go missing. Everything that implicates them must disappear."
"And the money? The accounts? It's all set up."
"Yes. But the case against Vega… it's too risky. He's too big."
"I know. But Vega is expendable. He's only useful as long as he doesn't know too much. We can't risk him speaking out."
I leaned back in my chair, my heart hammering. The words felt like poison dripping into my bloodstream.
The meeting had taken place right before Beltrán's sudden "change of heart." He had been preparing to expose something bigger—something involving Vega, Aranda, and now M. Torres.
I scrolled down. There was more.
"What about Del Valle?"
The name shot through me like a bullet. My blood ran cold. They knew about me. They knew I was the one investigating Beltrán's death. And they weren't just threatening me—they were preparing to do something about it. Something worse than a warning.
"He's too deep into this. He knows things he shouldn't."
"Then we deal with him the same way. If he becomes a problem, we take care of him."
I could barely breathe as I absorbed the last few words. They were talking about eliminating me. And they were already planning their next steps.
But the most important thing—the thing that could change the course of this entire case—was in the next line.
"The final piece of the puzzle is the offshore account. It's all traced back to Aranda. Once we shut down Del Valle's investigation, we move on to Aranda and Vega. Then, we own the city."
That was it. The proof I needed. The thread that connected all of them. M. Torres was the key, the mastermind pulling all the strings.
But now I had a choice to make.
I could go to the authorities.
But I knew, just as well as they did, that the system was broken. Corrupt.
If I wanted to bring them down, I'd have to do it my way.
Alone.
No one to trust.
I stood up, the weight of the decision sinking in. I couldn't wait anymore. They were coming for me.
But they hadn't counted on me having the truth.
And I wasn't going to let it go.
I grabbed the flash drive and shoved it back into my jacket pocket, as if hiding it from the very walls of my apartment. The truth felt heavier now, almost too much to carry. But I wasn't about to back down.
The plan had to move forward.
First things first, I needed to find out who M. Torres really was. A name, a few words, and a phantom in the shadows—it wasn't enough. But I had a feeling this was the most dangerous part of the puzzle.
I started searching. I didn't call in any favors. Not yet. My network was wide but not deep, and I couldn't risk word getting out. Instead, I went straight to the one place that held everything—the courthouse archives.
It was late. Too late for most to be working, but not too late for someone like me. The building was empty, save for a janitor who barely noticed my presence. I made my way to the archives room, feeling like I was stepping into the belly of the beast.
I pulled out files. A few minutes turned into an hour. And still, nothing about M. Torres.
But then, as I sifted through a stack of older, unprocessed files, I found something strange. A faded ledger from a year before—account numbers, transactions, and one name that stood out: Torres, M.
This wasn't the kind of thing you kept in a public file. No, this was hidden. Buried. And it wasn't just a name. It was a trail.
A trail that led straight to an offshore account under Torres's name, connected to several shell companies in the Cayman Islands. But here was the kicker—M. Torres wasn't just some shady businessman. He was listed as a senior associate at a top international law firm. This was much bigger than I thought.
I snapped a few pictures of the ledger with my phone and quickly stuffed the papers back into their folder. I didn't have time to stay any longer.
On my way out, I paused by a window overlooking the empty courtyard. My reflection stared back at me, a man on the edge of something he couldn't control anymore. But I had no choice. This was the path I was on.
As I stepped outside, my phone buzzed again. Another message.
"You're too deep, Santiago. Leave it alone."
This time, I didn't hesitate.
I typed back: "I don't plan on stopping."
Before I could lock my phone, I saw something that made my heart skip—an unfamiliar car parked down the street, right outside the courthouse. It wasn't moving. It wasn't even parked properly. It was a blatant sign, someone waiting. Someone watching.
I couldn't stay here any longer.
I walked quickly to my car, keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror. Whoever was out there wasn't just threatening me—they were trying to control me, force me into submission.
I started the engine and drove off, but I didn't go home. I couldn't risk leading them to my apartment. I had one more place to check—a contact who owed me a favor.
I pulled up to a run-down diner on the edge of town, a place that still had payphones on the wall and old-school booths with chipped vinyl. It was a safe place—no one ever expected anything shady to happen here.
Inside, Carlos, a former cop turned private investigator, sat at the corner booth, nursing a coffee.
I slid into the seat across from him. "I need to find out who M. Torres really is. And I need to know if there's a trail connecting him to anyone still alive."
Carlos raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions. He nodded and pulled out his phone. "Give me twenty-four hours. But you're not the only one looking for this guy."
That was enough.
I left the diner without a word, my mind already racing to my next move. I had the evidence, but I wasn't going to let them catch up to me that easily.
Whoever Torres was, he had friends in high places—and those friends weren't about to let a forensic examiner dig into their business without a fight.
The countdown had begun. They were coming for me. And now I was ready to bring them down.