Beatriz's words stayed in my head all the way to the Valdés house.
They knew about the engagement before the brunch.
I kept replaying the sentence.
Alejandro drove.
I sat beside him with my hands folded in my lap, watching the city slide past the window.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally he said, “I swear I didn't tell Esteban.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“But that doesn't explain how he knew.”
“No.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Do you think my mother told him?”
“I don't know.”
“She wouldn't.”
“I don't think she would either.”
“Then who?”
I looked through the windshield.
“That is what we're going to find out.”
Beatriz opened the door before we reached it.
She looked frightened.
That was enough to make me move faster.
“Where is the letter?”
“Inside.”
Roberto was in the living room, still recovering from surgery but sitting upright.
He looked from me to Alejandro.
“What happened?”
“Something concerning,” Beatriz said.
I sat beside him.
“Your wife found a letter from Esteban.”
Roberto frowned.
“Esteban?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Beatriz.
“Why would he write to me?”
“We don't know yet.”
She brought the letter.
The envelope was old.
The paper had yellowed slightly around the edges.
Roberto took it carefully.
His hands trembled.
He looked at the date.
Six months before our engagement.
He opened it.
His eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
“What?”
I asked.
He didn't answer.
He handed it to me.
I read.
The letter was written in Esteban's formal, careful style.
He spoke about Santa Elena's financial problems.
He described the cardiothoracic department as “an obstacle to efficient restructuring.”
Then came my name.
Not as chief surgeon.
Not as a physician.
As a problem.
I read the paragraph twice.
Esteban had described me as “deeply resistant to external management” and warned that I had “significant influence over staff and institutional culture.”
Then the final sentence made my hands go cold.
If Dr. Cárdenas remains in her current position, the department will not be amenable to the transition we have discussed.
I looked up.
“Transition?”
Roberto's face had gone pale.
“What does that mean?”
“It sounds like they wanted me removed before the acquisition.”
Alejandro took the letter.
“Keep reading.”
There was another page.
A second paragraph explained that the acquisition would be easier if the hospital's staff believed I had voluntarily chosen to leave.
I stared at the words.
“They wanted me to resign.”
“Yes,” Alejandro said.
“Before the acquisition.”
“Yes.”
Beatriz sat down.
Her face was drained of color.
“But why would they care so much about you?”
I looked at her.
“Because the department follows me.”
She shook her head.
“I don't understand.”
“I have worked there for years. People trust me. If they replace me, they lose that resistance.”
Roberto slowly lowered himself against the back of the sofa.
“So this wasn't about money.”
“It was about control.”
He closed his eyes.
“Then why did Esteban come to me?”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Before my surgery. He visited me.”
The room went silent.
“When?”
“Three months before.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to discuss the hospital's future.”
I looked at Beatriz.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Roberto frowned.
“He said he was trying to help.”
“Did he mention me?”
Roberto nodded.
“He asked whether you were planning to leave.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I hoped you would stay.”
Roberto looked ashamed.
“I didn't realize what he meant.”
I didn't blame him.
At the time, the question would have sounded harmless.
Now it was another piece of the same puzzle.
Alejandro sat beside me.
“Why would Esteban care about our engagement?”
“That may not be the right question,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What is?”
“Who told him?”
Beatriz stood.
“There is something else.”
She walked to a cabinet and removed a second folder.
“I found this behind Roberto's old medical files.”
Roberto frowned.
“Why were you looking there?”
“Because I remembered Esteban once left documents here.”
She opened the folder.
Inside were copies of emails.
I scanned them.
The dates matched the months before the engagement.
One email mentioned my name.
Another mentioned Alejandro.
A third mentioned the foundation.
I looked at Beatriz.
“What is the connection?”
“I don't know.”
Then I saw a familiar phrase.
“Valdés Foundation sponsorship.”
I read further.
There had been a proposal for a major hospital fundraising campaign.
Esteban had attended one of the early meetings.
The foundation's support would have given the acquisition group political and financial credibility.
But the campaign had stalled.
Because I had objected to one of its conditions.
I remembered that meeting.
Two years earlier, Santa Elena had been offered funding for a new cardiac wing.
The donation came with restrictions.
A private company wanted naming rights.
I had argued against a clause that would have limited free access to certain procedures.
The board rejected the condition.
I had forgotten the incident.
Esteban clearly had not.
“He blamed me for that.”
Roberto looked at me.
“You rejected the donation?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it would have changed patient access.”
He nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
Alejandro looked at the documents.
“So this started years ago.”
“Yes.”
Beatriz looked at me.
“He held a grudge.”
I shook my head.
“A grudge isn't enough.”
“What is?”
“Planning.”
The word settled over the room.
This wasn't one man's resentment.
It was a strategy.
Someone had identified me as an obstacle.
Someone had waited.
Someone had studied the hospital.
Then, when the right opportunity came, they moved.
Alejandro stood.
“I need to call the board chairman.”
“Not yet.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because if Esteban knows we have the letter, he'll know we understand the plan.”
“So?”
“So we don't tell him.”
Alejandro stared at me.
“You want to keep this secret?”
“For now.”
Beatriz nodded.
“I agree.”
Roberto looked confused.
“What are you planning?”
“To find out how far it goes.”
The next morning, I returned to Santa Elena.
I arrived early.
The hospital felt different.
People were watching me.
Some knew about the board meeting.
Others had heard rumors.
I walked into my office.
On my desk was an envelope.
No name.
No return address.
I opened it.
Inside was a single photocopy.
It showed a page from my personnel file.
At the bottom, someone had written in blue ink:
You should have taken the hint.
I stared at the sentence.
Then I checked the office door.
Locked.
I looked at the camera in the hallway.
The hospital had security cameras everywhere.
Whoever had left it had either known how to avoid them or had access to the system.
I called hospital security.
The head of security arrived within minutes.
I showed him the note.
His expression changed.
“Do you feel threatened?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you want an escort?”
“Not yet.”
He looked at the envelope.
“We'll check the cameras.”
“Do it quietly.”
He nodded.
When he left, my phone rang.
A private number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“You've been warned.”
The line went dead.
I stood completely still.
Then I called Alejandro.
He answered on the first ring.
“What happened?”
I told him.
He went quiet.
“Mariana, come home.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“This is not about proving you're brave.”
“I know.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because if I leave now, they win.”
He exhaled.
“I don't care about winning.”
“I do.”
There was silence.
Then he said softly:
“I care about you.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“Promise me you'll be careful.”
“I promise.”
I hung up.
Then I looked at the note again.
You should have taken the hint.
Someone believed I had been given a choice.
I hadn't.
And I was beginning to suspect that the cookbook, the insults, the engagement brunch and even Beatriz's mistaken assumptions had all been useful distractions.
While everyone was watching me being underestimated, someone else had been preparing to remove me.
The only question left was who had started the plan.
And whether they were still inside the hospital.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Security Footage Showed Someone Entering My Office, but the Face on the Screen Belonged to a Person I Had Trusted for Years
The Gift Was Meant to Humiliate Me, but the Phone Call That Followed Changed What Everyone at the Table Thought They Knew
Part 9 of 20
