The Escayola that hid death

PART 3: THE POISONED INHERITANCE

The man's silhouette remained behind the frosted glass like a shadow ripped from a nightmare.

Nobody moved.

The man didn't try to break down the door. He didn't shout. He didn't threaten. He just stood there, motionless, with Teresa Almeida's badge dangling between his gloved fingers, as if to show proof that he had already won even before entering.

Miguel backed up to the side of Augusto's bed.

"It's him," she whispered. "The man who followed the lawyer."

Duarte signaled to two security guards.

Protect Mr. Valente.

The men positioned themselves in front of the bed. Another security guard pulled Miguel back, but Augusto raised his hand.

He'll stay with me.

Miguel looked at the billionaire, not understanding why this powerful man insisted on keeping him close. Throughout his life, wealthy adults had been closed doors, harsh voices, and eyes that passed over him as if he were trash on the sidewalk. Augusto was different. He wasn't sweetly kind. He was hard, cold, made of marble. But, at that moment, his authority was aimed at protecting, not crushing.

The man outside slowly raised his hand and tapped on the glass.

Once.

Two.

Three.

Duarte spoke loudly:

— Identify yourself.

Silence.

Then the intercom started crackling again.

The same distorted voice filled the room.

— Hand over the boy, and Mr. Valente will live until morning.

Helena brought her hands to her face.

Álvaro, still held by two security guards, murmured:

- My God…

Augusto turned to him.

— Now you believe the killer in the black coat?

Álvaro tried to answer, but his throat gave out.

Duarte pulled the stun gun from his belt, but Augusto spoke first:

— No shooting inside the room. I want him alive. I want names.

The head of security nodded and moved toward the door with three men. When he unlocked the first latch, the silhouette disappeared.

The door opened.

The hallway was empty.

On the floor, only Teresa's name tag.

And a small black USB drive.

Duarte caught it with a handkerchief.

He left this.

"Don't connect to any of the clinic's computers," Miguel said suddenly.

Everyone looked at him.

- Why?

The boy swallowed hard.

— Because that's how they deleted the videos from the service entrance. Mrs. Teresa said they used fake files to access the systems.

Duarte looked at Augusto.

The kid is right. We need a stand-alone machine.

Augusto nodded.

— Use my team's laptop when I arrive. Until then, nobody touches it.

Dr. Helena began to cry silently. It wasn't a cry of regretful guilt. It was fear. Fear of someone above her.

Augusto realized.

Who is he?

Helena shook her head.

- I don't know.

- He knows.

I don't know his real name.

Then tell the false one.

She hesitated.

Álvaro shouted:

Helena, be quiet!

It was the worst thing I could have done.

Augusto turned his gaze towards him.

— Doctor Álvaro has just confirmed that she knows.

Álvaro shut his mouth.

Helena collapsed into a chair.

— They called him Silveira. That's all. He took care of the… external part.

— The outside of what?

She looked at Miguel.

— To clear up problems.

The boy felt his stomach churn.

Problems.

That's what people like her called people like him. Problems. Obstacles. Things to move, hide, or erase.

Augusto closed his fingers in the sheet.

— Who hired Silveira?

Helena looked at Álvaro.

Álvaro didn't speak.

But his silence spoke volumes more than any confession.

Augustus bowed.

- Who?

The chief physician took a deep breath.

— You don't understand the magnitude of this.

— Then enlighten me.

Álvaro laughed, but the laughter came out broken.

— Do you think two doctors would risk everything just for money? Do you think we invented this? Mr. Valente is a powerful man, but old. Frail. Surrounded by enemies. Everyone knew that if he changed his will, the foundation, the shares, and the laboratories would change hands.

Was I going to change my will?

Álvaro smiled venomously.

— Yes. After receiving a letter.

Augusto froze.

— Which letter?

Miguel slowly raised his hand.

— From my mother.

The room seemed to shrink.

Augusto looked at the boy.

Did Clara write to me?

Miguel nodded.

— She said she had discovered who betrayed her. She said she had proof. She said you should know you had a grandson.

The word "grandson" struck them with a force that no document could match.

Augusto closed his eyes.

For eleven years, he had believed that his daughter hated him. That she had chosen to disappear. That she had died without wanting to return. Now he was discovering that perhaps she had tried to come back, but someone had blocked the way.

Did this letter arrive at my house?

Miguel looked at Álvaro.

— He arrived at the clinic.

Augusto turned slowly to the head physician.

Because I was hospitalized here.

Álvaro did not respond.

Where is that letter?

Helena whispered:

— In the private file.

Álvaro turned around furiously.

— Shut up!

Duarte made a gesture, and a security guard squeezed his arm.

Augustus said:

Bring the private file.

Helena shook her head.

— You can't open it without Dr. Álvaro's password.

Augusto smiled humorlessly.

I don't need his password. The clinic is mine.

Duarte left immediately.

In the following minutes, the room transformed into a luxurious prison. Helena sat there, devastated. Álvaro remained standing, surrounded. Miguel stood by the window, watching the rain, as if still searching for an escape route. Augusto kept his eyes on him.

— Miguel.

- Yes?

Did your mother speak of me with hatred?

The boy took a while to answer.

— She spoke sadly.

The response struck Augustus more deeply than any insult.

— She said that you loved everything as if it were a company. Even the people. But she also said that if you saw the truth with your own eyes, perhaps you could still make the right choice.

Augusto lowered his head.

And you? What do you think of me?

Miguel looked at the expensive bed, the embroidered sheets, the wealthy doctors, and the bodyguards.

— I think people like you only notice us when we break something.

Augusto accepted the statement without defending himself.

— Today you broke the right thing.

The door opened again. Duarte returned with a metal box and a lawyer from the Valente team, a middle-aged man named Rui Fontes. Behind him came an elegant woman with gray hair, a stern face, and anxious eyes.

When Augustus saw her, he rose slightly.

— Marta.

It was Marta Sampaio, his personal lawyer for thirty years.

She entered as if she had just weathered a storm.

— They tried to stop me from getting here. My car was followed. I had to be escorted by the police.

Miguel pointed at her.

— It was the lady I saw.

Marta looked at the boy.

And he remained motionless.

Her expression changed from professional to human, then from human to shocked.

- My God…

Augusto realized.

Do you know him?

Marta slowly approached Miguel.

Are you Clara's son?

Miguel didn't answer, but his eyes filled with tears.

Marta put her hand to her chest.

— I've been searching for you for years.

Augusto clenched his fists.

So you knew?

— I received a letter from Clara six months ago. She said she was alive, that she had a son, and that she needed to speak with you before it was too late. I arranged a visit, but that same day you fell and were brought here.

"The fall," said Augusto.

Marta looked at Álvaro.

Now I suspect it was never an accident.

Duarte opened the metal box on the table. Inside were several folders marked with medical codes. Among them was an unmarked red folder.

Helena began to tremble.

Marta picked up the red folder and opened it.

The first page was a declaration of mental incapacity for Augusto Valente, ready to be signed by a private court.

The second was a temporary transfer of corporate powers.

The third one contained a list of international accounts.

The fourth was a copy of the Old Testament.

The fifth one had a name written on top.

"Provisional beneficiary: Tomás Valente."

Augusto stood motionless.

Thomas.

The nephew he had raised as his own son after Clara's departure. The man everyone considered the natural successor to the empire. The man who had been by his side in council meetings, at dinners, at gatherings, in public photographs.

— Thomas — murmured Augustus.

Álvaro looked at the ground.

Helena began to sob.

Marta closed the folder slowly.

— Mr. Valente, this is an attempt to seize all of the assets.

Miguel tightened the bracelet.

My mother said that name.

Augusto turned to him.

Thomas?

The boy nodded.

She said that he was the one who smiled when they took her away.

Augustus's face hardened until it looked like stone.