Chapter 5 - The Secret of Amarillo
As the police officers filed out into the rainy Dallas night, the heavy front door clicked shut, leaving an oppressive, suffocating silence in the foyer.
Richard led me back into his study, gently guiding me down onto the leather sofa. He poured a small glass of whiskey and handed it to me, though my hands were shaking too violently to hold it. He sat down on the coffee table right in front of me, his knees almost touching mine.
"Mariana, talk to me," Richard urged gently. "You said Diego died in a truck accident outside Amarillo six years ago. Tell me everything you remember about that day."
I took a ragged breath, closing my eyes as the painful memories rushed back.
"It was November," I whispered. "Diego called me around midnight. He sounded terrified. He said he was driving a company transport truck loaded with agricultural equipment and materials up north toward the panhandle. He told me his mother was threatening him—that he had tried to break away from the family business to start an independent firm with me and Sophie."
Richard leaned in closer. "Go on."
"He said Theresa found out about this secret bank account we had opened in secret—the one with the fourteen million dollars," I continued, tears spilling over my cheeks. "He said he had set it aside from a separate land sale he managed independently, so we could finally escape her control. Then, two hours later, the highway patrol called to say his truck had gone off an icy bridge. They said it burst into flames. There was barely anything left to bury."
Richard’s face went completely still. "Did you ever see the autopsy report, Mariana?"
I shook my head numbly. "No. Theresa handled everything. She told me it was too gruesome, that the state police had closed the case as a tragic accident caused by black ice and driver fatigue."
Richard stood up abruptly, walking over to his desk and picking up his secure satellite phone. He punched in a series of numbers with aggressive speed.
"Marcus," Richard said into the phone the moment the call connected. I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but Richard’s tone brooked no argument. "I need you to pull every public record, coroner’s file, and state police report regarding a fatal vehicle crash outside Amarillo on November 14, 2020. Specifically, look at the vehicle identification number and the dental records of the victim. Do it now."
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He ended the call and turned back to me.
"Mariana," Richard said, his voice heavy with a terrifying realization. "If Diego had fourteen million dollars hidden away, and Theresa knew about it, his death wasn't just a convenient tragedy for her. It was the only way she could secure absolute control over the family fortune."
