Chapter 4 - Eighteen Thousand Dollars

Rafael read the invoice twice.

"Forty-six thousand?"

"That's not what I charged you," Camila said.

Victoria leaned closer. "How much did you charge?"

"Twenty-eight."

Nolan let out a low whistle.

Bianca took one step forward. "There are additional event fees."

"On my letterhead?" Camila asked.

"They were bundled through your bakery package."

"No, they weren't."

Bianca's tone sharpened. "Camila, this is not the place."

"That's what the person who destroyed my cake wrote too."

Rafael folded the invoice once. "Where did the extra eighteen thousand dollars go?"

Bianca's face stayed composed, but her fingers tightened around her headset.

"I would need to review accounting."

"Do that."

"Tomorrow."

"Now."

The hallway went silent.

Rafael had spent forty years building Salazar Development from two pickup trucks and a concrete mixer into a company with projects across Texas. He had the kind of voice that made people remember deadlines.

Bianca forced a laugh. "Rafael, Elena's guests are arriving."

"Then you'd better find the answer fast."

Elena looked troubled. "Rafa, maybe we shouldn't let this ruin the night."

Camila understood why she said it. Elena had survived breast cancer two years earlier. Her children had planned this birthday as a celebration of remission, family, and a second chance at ordinary happiness.

Camila had designed the cake around that story.

Blue agave for endurance.

Gold stars for the grandchildren.

Seven sugar roses for seven decades.

The celebration mattered.

Which was exactly why someone believed they could hide behind it.

Camila took the fake invoice from Rafael and examined the signature.

The curve of the C was wrong.

The R in Reyes was too neat.

Then she noticed the invoice number.

LS-4187.

Her real invoice was LS-4181.

"Whoever made this had access to one of my recent invoice templates," she said.

Bianca shrugged. "Your staff, perhaps."

"My staff doesn't have access to billing templates."

"Then who does?"

Camila hesitated.

Only three people.

Camila herself.

Her accountant.

And her younger brother, Mateo.

Victoria caught the pause. "You know someone who could've done it."

"No."

"That wasn't the question."

Camila hated that the words sounded familiar.

She looked down at the invoice again.

At the bottom was a routing line for payment.

Not her business account.

A different account ending in 9924.

Rafael pulled out his phone. "I'll call Daniel."

Daniel Salazar was his oldest son and the family's CFO.

Before Rafael could dial, Camila's phone buzzed.

A text from Mateo.

CALL ME. NOW.

Then another.

DO NOT TRUST BIANCA VALE.

Camila's stomach dropped.

A third message appeared.

I KNOW WHERE THE MONEY WENT.

She hit call.

The line rang once.

Then Mateo answered in a whisper.

"Camila, get out of the hotel."

Behind his voice came the unmistakable sound of glass breaking.

Then the call went dead.

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