Page 199 of Titus

My stomach tightened.

“What they need is proof that Titus knew they existed.”

I sighed, having no idea how we were going to prove that he didn’t.

“If the Valdéz family can help us understand where this started…” Jim continued, “or who pushed it forward, we have a better starting point for finding more answers.”

The gates to the Valdéz estate opened before our vehicle reached them. The estate spread across the countryside outside Madrid, framed by olive groves and rolling hills that seemed to stretch on forever.

I sat quietly in the backseat as the main residence came into view. The place was enormous, not in the way luxury hotels were enormous, or in the way billionaires built modern compounds overlooking the ocean.

This place always felt older and more established. The sort of wealth that had existed long before anyone thought to measure success by private jets and skyscrapers.

This place had been home to Amelia and me for most of our lives, despite the family owning homes in various locations. Of all their residences, this was where they spent most of their time.

Jim glanced out the window. “They’ve kept it remarkably unchanged.”

“You’ve been here before?” I asked him.

Jim smiled. “I accompanied my father once on a business trip that brought us here.”

“Of course you did,” I smiled, knowing Jim Mitchell had grown up wealthy.

The Hawks had built an empire. The Valdéz family had inherited one. These men had all taken different roads in life that led to the same destination.

The Mercedes stopped beneath a covered stone entrance where several staff members waited outside. The moment the car door opened, I understood this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation.

A man in his seventies descended the front steps. I only hoped he had fond memories of me as a child. I forgot how intimidating he looked, and I didn’t have my mother here to hide behind anymore.

He had silver hair and a perfect posture, wearing his usual bespoke suit and carrying an air that made people instinctively pay attention.

His eyes moved past me and straight to Jim. “James Mitchell.”

Jim stepped from the vehicle. “Mr. Estrada,” Jim acknowledged the head butler for the family.

The older man extended his hand, introducing himself. “Last I saw you, you were about to graduate from Oxford at the top of your class, I believe.”

Jim took his hand. “Oxford was a long time ago,” he softly laughed.

“Word is you have a family now?”

“Indeed, I do. A wife, Avery, and two daughters, Izzy and Addy.”

“And she manages you just fine while you run your company?”

I watched him eyeing Jim as if challenging him in some way. “Absolutely,” Jim said. “I fear, though, if I weren’t running the company and it was running me, she wouldn’t manage me at all.”

He laughed at Jim’s response, “Sounds like a lovely woman.” Then he turned his attention to me.

The change in his demeanor was subtle. It wasn’t less respectful; it was more curious than anything. I couldn’t believe he still worked for the family, but then again, he had been extremely dedicated to them when my mom was here.

“Catalina. It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” I smiled in response.

His expression softened. “I believe the last time I saw you, you were following your mother through the gardens, refusing to wear shoes.”

Heat immediately rose to my face while Jim looked amused.