CHAPTER 4: THE ENVELOPE
The company celebration ended just after midnight.
Most of the employees had already left, carrying gift bags and laughing as they waited for their cars beneath the restaurant awning. Inside, waiters cleared the final glasses while Victor reviewed the bill with the manager.
Elena remained at the table where Rafael had thrown wine in her face one year earlier.
She was no longer haunted by it.
At least, that was what she told herself.
“You’re doing it again,” Victor said as he approached.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at an empty chair like it owes you an explanation.”
Elena smiled faintly. “Old habits.”
Victor placed his jacket over the back of the chair beside her.
Their friendship had deepened during the rebuilding of Morales Holdings. He never asked Elena to lean on him. He simply made certain she knew he was there.
That distinction mattered.
A waiter entered from the lobby carrying a white envelope.
“This was left for Ms. Morales.”
“By whom?” Victor asked.
The waiter shook his head. “A delivery driver. He left before security could stop him.”
Elena examined the envelope.
There was no return address.
Her name had been written by hand.
She opened it carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The message contained only thirteen words.
Your father did not die because of the stolen money. Ask Rafael about Orion.
Elena read it twice.
Victor saw her expression change.
“What is it?”
She handed him the note.
He studied it silently.
“Orion,” he said. “Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Could Rafael have sent this?”
“He would need approval to communicate with me.”
“Unless he used someone else.”
Elena looked toward the security cameras above the restaurant entrance.
“Get the footage.”
Victor contacted the security team. Within twenty minutes, they had video of the delivery.
A man wearing a baseball cap entered the lobby at 11:47 p.m. His face remained lowered. He handed the envelope to a waiter and walked out.
The exterior camera captured him entering a dark sedan.
Victor enlarged the image.
The license plate had been covered.
But as the car turned, the passenger looked through the window.
Elena recognized him.
He was one of the federal investigators who had worked on Rafael’s case.
His name was Malcolm Reed.
Three months earlier, Reed had resigned without explanation.
Victor called one of his contacts at the Department of Justice.
The answer came quickly.
Malcolm Reed had been found dead two hours earlier in an apartment across town.
The police believed he had taken his own life.
Elena looked down at the note again.
The ink was still fresh.
“If Reed died two hours ago,” she whispered, “then who delivered this?”
Victor turned back to the frozen security image.
The passenger’s face was unmistakable.
“Elena,” he said carefully, “we need to find out what Orion is before whoever sent this decides you already know too much.”
Her phone rang.
The call came from a restricted number.
When Elena answered, she heard several seconds of static.
Then Rafael’s voice came through the line.
“Elena, don’t trust the foundation records.”
She stood so quickly that the chair struck the floor.
“Rafael?”
“They know Mateo left something behind.”
“Who knows?”
The line crackled.
Rafael lowered his voice.
May you like
“Everyone you think helped you.”
Then the call ended.
