The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

Alexander didn’t accept Elias’s memory simply because the timeline fit.

He verified it.

That became the first order of business the following morning.

The old logistics company still possessed partial employment archives from the period when Elias worked there. Later acquisitions had digitized most records, including basic payroll history, assignment sheets, and several surviving delivery logs.

Maribel’s employment with Victoria Sebastian provided another fixed point.

Between the two sets of records, Elias’s timeline held.

He had begun working for the logistics company after Ramon Villareal officially died.

He had first delivered to the Sebastian household months later.

And the depot trip Elias remembered happened after both.

Unless he was confusing Ramon with somebody else, the dead safety inspector had been walking around at least a year and a half after his recorded death.

Giovanni looked at the summarized timeline.

”So either the death record is fraudulent...”

”Or Elias saw someone who looked remarkably like him,” Alexander said.

”With the same birthmark.”

”According to Elias.”

Giovanni looked at him.

”You’re determined to make this difficult.”

”I’m determined to avoid declaring someone alive based on one man’s memory.”

”My father’s case went cold because everyone did exactly that.”

”Exactly what?”

”Found the easiest explanation and stopped.”

Alexander’s expression hardened.

”That’s not what I’m doing.”

”It sounds remarkably similar.”

”No. I’m looking for proof.”

”So am I.”

”Then stop treating questions like resistance.”

Silence settled between them.

The problem wasn’t that either man believed the other was wrong.

They approached uncertainty from opposite directions.

Giovanni had spent years with unanswered questions surrounding Matteo’s death. Now, for the first time, there was a trail, and every delay felt like another opportunity for it to disappear.

Alexander saw the same trail and immediately thought of exposure.

Who was watching?

Who still had access to old records?

Who had already demonstrated the ability to photograph his vehicles and track Elias?

More importantly, if somebody had gone to the trouble of erasing Ramon Villareal once, what would happen when they realized Giovanni had started looking for him?

Alexander leaned back.

”We use an independent investigator.”

Giovanni frowned.

”My people can handle it.”

”That’s exactly why I don’t want Mercer handling it.”

His expression changed.

”There it is.”

”What?”

”You’re deciding again.”

Alexander already knew where this was going.

”We talked about this.”

”Apparently not enough.”

”If someone is monitoring connections around you, Mercer suddenly requesting information from a depot tied to your father’s case is effectively an announcement.”

”My investigators know how to be discreet.”

”So do Vance’s.”

”Then why not yours?”

”Because you’re the person they deliberately excluded.”

Giovanni stared at him.

”And now you’re helping them.”

That landed.

Alexander’s jaw tightened.

”I’m managing exposure.”

”Mine.”

”Yes.”

”My father’s case.”

”Yes.”

”And somehow you hear those two sentences and conclude that gives you more authority than me?”

Elias sat several feet away, wishing with increasing intensity that Alexander had simply left him downstairs with the car.

Neither man paid him any attention.

Alexander said, ”I’m not asking you to stop investigating.”

”You’re deciding how I investigate.”

”For a reason.”

”Augustus had reasons too.”

That ended the argument.

Not because Alexander agreed.

Because the comparison struck exactly where Giovanni intended.

His grandfather had spent years justifying control as protection.

A suitable marriage.

A stable future.

Someone Augustus had personally approved.

All because he believed Alexander might make the wrong choice if left to himself.

Alexander had hated that logic.

Now Giovanni was accusing him of using a quieter version of it.

He looked away.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Alexander said, ”Fine.”

Giovanni waited.

”Joint investigator.”

”What?”

”Someone neither Vance nor Mercer normally uses.”

Alexander looked back at him.

”We both receive every report at the same time.”

Giovanni considered it.

”No unilateral instructions.”

”Agreed.”

”That includes you.”

”I know.”

”Say it.”

Alexander gave him an irritated look.

”That includes me.”

”Good.”

Elias cleared his throat.

Both men looked at him.

”If the custody hearing over the investigation is finished...”

Alexander stared.

Giovanni’s mouth twitched.

Elias immediately seemed to regret speaking.

”...I may know another way to confirm whether I saw Villareal.”

The tension vanished.

Alexander leaned forward.

”How?”

”The salvage yard had cameras.”

”Footage from that long ago won’t exist.”

”No.”

Elias shook his head.

”They also had an annual safety board.”

Giovanni frowned.

”What does that mean?”

”Employees and regular contractors attended a yearly safety orientation. They took group photographs afterward and posted them near the main office.”

”With names?”

”Usually.”

Alexander’s attention sharpened.

”Would Villareal have been in one?”

”If he worked there regularly.”

”You said you didn’t know what he was doing at the depot.”

”I didn’t.”

Elias paused.

”But when I saw him, he wasn’t dressed like a visitor.”

”What was he wearing?”

”Coveralls.”

”Company?”

”I think so.”

That was considerably more useful than an old memory of a face.

They now had a location.

An approximate year.

A company.

And possibly a photograph.

The independent investigator began that afternoon.

The original depot company no longer existed under the same ownership, but portions of its administrative records had survived an acquisition and were being held in off-site storage.

Old safety-orientation photographs weren’t considered important records.

That almost worked in their favor.

Nobody had bothered destroying them.

They simply sat inside archived personnel files that hadn’t been requested in years.

Two days later, a scanned photograph arrived.

Alexander didn’t open it until Giovanni reached Vance Holdings.

That was part of their agreement.

Everything together.

No unilateral moves.

Giovanni entered the conference room and noticed the unopened message on the large monitor.

”You waited.”

”I said I would.”

Something in his expression softened.

”Thank you.”

Alexander nodded.

Elias was brought upstairs too.

The investigator joined them remotely.

”Ready?”

Giovanni sat.

”Open it.”

The photograph filled the screen.

ANNUAL SAFETY ORIENTATION

The date matched Elias’s recollection.

Thirty-seven people stood in three rows outside the equipment depot.

Some wore reflective vests.

Others wore coveralls.

Several looked bored.

One man in front had apparently blinked at exactly the wrong moment.

Names appeared in small print underneath.

Alexander enlarged the image.

”Elias.”

The older man stepped closer.

”Find him.”

Elias scanned the first row.

Then the second.

Nothing.

His expression tightened.

”Maybe I was wrong.”

”Keep looking,” Giovanni said.

Third row.

Elias moved from left to right.

Then stopped.

His finger rose.

”There.”

Alexander enlarged the far-right portion of the photograph.

A man stood partly behind a taller employee.

He was older than in the Calderon personnel photograph they’d found.

Thinner.

His hair had been cut differently.

But the face was there.

Even in the grainy photograph, a pale, irregular mark ran down the left side of his neck before disappearing beneath his collar.

Elias exhaled.

”That’s him.”

Giovanni stared.

Alexander looked at the name printed beneath the photograph.

It wasn’t Ramon Villareal.

MANUEL VERA

Nobody spoke.

Alexander pulled Ramon Villareal’s old employee photograph onto the adjacent screen.

Same brow.

Same nose.

Same jaw.

Same birthmark.

Older, certainly.

But unmistakably the same man.

Giovanni looked toward Elias.

”You’re sure?”

”Yes.”

No hesitation now.

”That’s Ramon.”

Alexander turned toward the investigator on the screen.

”Who is Manuel Vera?”

”We’re checking.”

Giovanni folded his arms.

”So Ramon Villareal dies.”

Alexander looked at the two photographs.

”Then Manuel Vera appears.”

”Another employment record.”

”And presumably documents good enough to get hired.”

The investigator said, ”Which suggests planning.”

Alexander didn’t respond.

That was the part bothering him.

Faking a death was one thing.

Building another identity that survived employment screening was another.

Someone had helped him.

Or Ramon Villareal had possessed resources nobody had known about.

Giovanni stared at the screen.

”Find Manuel Vera.”

A brief silence followed.

Alexander noticed immediately.

”What?”

”We already ran the name.”

”And?”

The investigator hesitated.

”There’s a problem.”

Giovanni’s expression hardened.

”What problem?”

”Manuel Vera’s records stopped after this photograph.”

”Death?”

”No.”

”Emigration?”

”Nothing confirmed.”

”Change of employment?”

”No documented continuation.”

Giovanni went still.

The investigator continued.

”Banking activity stops. Employment contributions stop. Registered address goes inactive. We haven’t found a death certificate under Manuel Vera.”

Alexander looked toward the screen containing Ramon Villareal’s death record.

Then at the photograph of Manuel Vera.

One face.

Two names.

The first man had died on paper and continued living.

The second had continued living on paper until, one day, he simply stopped.

Giovanni’s voice was quiet.

”He disappeared again.”

”Yes.”

”Same man.”

”Apparently.”

”Two identities.”

”At least.”

That final phrase caught Alexander.

”At least?”

The investigator nodded.

”We searched the photograph through several archived employment databases.”

”And?”

”We may have another match.”

Nobody moved.

”Where?”

The investigator hesitated.

”That’s what makes this interesting.”

Giovanni’s patience snapped first.

”Where?”

A new file appeared on the screen.

A corporate access photograph.

The timestamp was far more recent.

Alexander read the organization listed beneath it.

Then stopped.

Because Ramon Villareal, or Manuel Vera, or whatever name he was using by then, hadn’t disappeared.

And according to the new photograph, he’d later resurfaced somewhere neither Giovanni had thought to look.