21. Lucas
— ? —
Lucas
Something about the accident has been bothering me.
It’s a splinter in my mind - small, persistent, impossible to ignore. The fall. The debris. The way everything happened at exactly the wrong moment, in exactly the wrong place.
I find Mr. Velez in the training arena, working with one of the younger horses. The afternoon sun beats down, dust swirling with every movement. He sees me coming and meets me at the fence, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Mr. Montoya.” A respectful nod. “How can I help you?”
“I want to ask you about the night Delilah fell.”
His expression shifts. Not surprise - something more thoughtful. More careful.
“What about it?”
“The debris in the arena. The piece of wood Stella tripped on.” I watch his face closely. “Do you think it was an accident?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The horse behind him snorts, impatient, but he doesn’t turn. His eyes stay on mine, and I can see the wheels turning - the calculation of a man who’s been in this business for three decades, who knows what he saw and is deciding whether to say it.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” he says finally.
“Tell me.”
He leans against the fence, crossing his arms. “It was dark that night - darker than usual.”
I nod. The clouds had killed the moon that night - I remember.
“But I’ve been working in arenas for thirty years, and I know what belongs there and what doesn’t.” He shakes his head slowly. “That piece of wood shouldn’t have been in the path. It wasn’t there when I checked the arena before her run. I always check.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mr. Montoya, I’ve been doing this since before you were born. I don’t miss things like that.” His jaw tightens. “That debris appeared sometime in the fifteen minutes between my check and her run. It’s almost like…”
“Like someone put it there intentionally.”
“Yes.”
The word hangs between us. Heavy. Damning.
Aimie.
I don’t say it out loud. But she’s the only one who benefited from Delilah’s fall. The only one who gained everything while my wife lost everything.
The training position. The house. The access to our family. The chance to slide into the space Delilah left behind.
“The security cameras,” I say. “From that night. Did you see anyone near the arena before the run?”
“The footage was corrupted. Server reset the next day, wiped most of it. I told the tech team, but they said there wasn’t much they could recover.”
Convenient. Too convenient.
“Thank you, Mr. Velez.”
I head back to the house, my mind racing. I’ve already asked Dario to pull whatever footage IT could recover. If there’s anything - anything - that shows Aimie near that arena before the run-
I need proof.
I need to show Delilah the truth.