CHAPTER 5 - BURIED ALIVE II

Lucía could not bring herself to answer.

Instead, she switched on the television mounted across the room, hoping the news might reveal whether the police had identified the vehicle involved in the crash.

The first report that appeared made Isabella forget her pain.

A photograph of her wedding filled the screen. Alejandro stood beside her in his immaculate suit, smiling as she held his arm. Beneath the image, a news banner announced that the businessman's pregnant wife remained missing following a suspected road accident outside Madrid.

The presenter continued speaking.

“Authorities have confirmed that the vehicle registered to Isabella Laurent was found badly damaged after leaving the highway,” the presenter reported. “Rescue teams have not yet recovered the missing woman's body, and investigators have not ruled out foul play.”

Isabella stared at the screen, her mouth slightly open.

Then Alejandro appeared in front of a crowd of reporters.

He wore a black suit, and his expression was drawn with what looked like exhaustion. When a reporter asked whether he believed his wife was still alive, Alejandro lowered his head before answering.

“My wife is a wonderful woman, and I refuse to accept that she is gone,” Alejandro told the reporters. “Isabella is carrying our child, and I am asking everyone to pray for her safe return. I will not stop searching until I know what happened to her.”

Isabella felt the blood drain from her face.

“He's lying,” she whispered.

Lucía turned toward her. “Isabella—”

“He knows what happened to me.” Isabella's voice shook as she pointed at the screen. “I called him from that car. He heard me begging for help, and he ended the call. He knows I'm alive, yet he's standing there pretending to search for me.”

On the television, Alejandro wiped his face as another reporter asked about the possibility that Isabella had died.

“I cannot imagine a future without my wife,” Alejandro answered, his voice breaking convincingly. “She is the woman I love, and I only want her to come home.”

Isabella began to cry.

The tears came without warning, and she could not stop them. She had heard him condemn her to death, yet seeing him perform his grief before the cameras hurt in a way she had not anticipated.

She had once believed that no matter what happened between them, Alejandro would never abandon her when she needed him most.

Now the entire country was being invited to mourn a woman he had tried to murder.

Lucía switched off the television when Isabella began struggling to breathe through her sobs.

“Please, breathe slowly,” Lucía urged, taking her hand. “You cannot put this much strain on yourself while you're recovering.”

“My baby,” Isabella choked out. “What happened to my baby?”

Lucía went still.

Isabella looked down at her abdomen, where the blanket lay flat over the body that had carried her child. She had been so desperate to see Alejandro that she had not yet asked the question she was most afraid to hear answered.

“Lucía, where is my baby?” Isabella asked, her voice breaking. “Why haven't I felt her move? Why hasn't anyone told me whether she's all right?”

Lucía sat beside her and held her hand with both of hers.

“I'm so sorry, Isabella,” Lucía said softly. “The doctors did everything they could, but they couldn't save your daughter.”

For a moment, Isabella did not react.

She simply stared at Lucía, waiting for the words to change into something else.

“My daughter?” Isabella whispered.

“Yes,” Lucía answered, tears filling her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

Isabella's face crumpled.

“No,” she sobbed, clutching the blanket. “No, she was supposed to come home with me. I had already chosen her room. I bought clothes she would never grow into, and Alejandro promised he would hold her first. We were supposed to be a family.”

Lucía moved closer, allowing Isabella to grip her hand as grief overtook her.

“He killed her,” Isabella whispered between sobs. “He killed our daughter.”

Lucía did not contradict her.

Isabella cried until exhaustion forced her to close her eyes, but even then, the pain did not leave. She mourned the little girl she had never held, the future she had imagined, and the man she had loved with a devotion that now seemed almost humiliating.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the tears had slowed.

“Why would he do this?” Isabella asked hoarsely. “What could I possibly have discovered that was worth killing his wife and unborn child?”

Lucía reached into her bag and withdrew a thin folder.

“Because the agreement you found is connected to something much larger than your marriage,” Lucía answered. “I was following records from your father's former business when I discovered transactions that led me to the area where your car crashed. I believe someone was trying to prevent those records from becoming public.”

She opened the folder and placed several photocopied documents on the bed.

Isabella stared at the familiar company names, the transfer references, and the signatures she had spent days trying to understand.

“These are copies of records connected to your father's business,” Lucía explained. “Some transactions passed through companies associated with Alejandro Laurent and Don Daniel's network. The dates overlap with the period when your father's business began collapsing.”

Isabella reached for the first page, her fingers trembling as she examined the figures.

“My father lost everything because of these people,” Isabella said.

“Some of the records suggest that his business was deliberately weakened through concealed financial arrangements,” Lucía replied. “I haven't established every connection yet, but Alejandro's name appears too often for this to be an ordinary business dispute.”

Isabella turned another page and found a reference to a confidential agreement.

“This is the same agreement I found before the accident,” Isabella said. “Alejandro knew I had seen it. That's why he asked me to meet him at the estate.”

Lucía nodded slowly.

“I suspect the meeting was arranged to make your disappearance look like an accident,” Lucía said. “But we need evidence strong enough to prove who ordered it and who helped cover it up.”

Isabella stared at the documents until the names blurred before her eyes. Her husband had stolen from her, betrayed her, and destroyed the future she had planned for their child. Now she was beginning to understand that his crimes might have started long before their marriage.

“What happens now?” Isabella asked.

“Right now, you recover,” Lucía answered firmly. “Your husband believes you are missing, and the authorities may soon declare you dead if no one finds your body. If you return openly, whoever arranged that crash may try again.”

Isabella slowly lowered the papers.

“So he gets everything,” she said. “My inheritance, my father's legacy, the companies he has been trying to control, and the freedom to pretend he loved me.”

“If your death is accepted, Alejandro may have an opportunity to consolidate control over your assets,” Lucía replied. “We need to find out what legal protections remain in place before he can move everything beyond our reach.”

Isabella turned toward the window, where the evening light was fading over the hospital grounds.

She had entered her marriage believing love could withstand any hardship. She had trusted Alejandro with her money, her family history, and the child she had carried beneath her heart.

He had used that trust to destroy her.

And somewhere beyond the walls of the hospital, the man who had ordered her death was receiving condolences for a wife he had publicly sworn to find.

Isabella wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Don't tell anyone I'm alive,” she said.

Lucía studied her face. “Isabella, you need time to recover before making any decisions.”

“I have already made my decision,” Isabella replied. “If Alejandro believes I'm dead, let him mourn me. Let him inherit the shame he thinks he has escaped, and let him believe there is no one left who can expose what he has done.”

She looked down at the documents again, focusing on the names connected to Don Daniel's network.

One company appeared beside a reference she recognised from the business gathering in Madrid. It was associated with an organisation whose operations had intersected with her father's business before its collapse.

The same network had connections to Damián Montenegro.

Isabella's expression hardened.

“Alejandro didn't do this alone,” she said.

“No,” Lucía agreed. “And until we understand how far this network reaches, we cannot know who else might be involved.”

Isabella closed the folder and held it against her chest.

Her husband had buried her future, but he had failed to bury the evidence.

And the conspiracy that had destroyed her family reached far beyond the man she had married.