Chapter 6 - Returning the Inks
The ballroom emptied within twenty minutes, leaving only the shattered glass, the scattered orchids, and the core members of the Montiel family standing under the cold light of the chandeliers.
Doña Teresa sat back in her chair, her hands clutching her designer pearl necklace as if it could protect her from the financial vacuum opening around her. Alejandro stood in the center of the room, his tie pulled loose, his breathing heavy and ragged as he stared at me.
"You think you’re smart, Valeria?" he hissed, taking three steps toward me, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think because you found some old sugar daddy in the Serrano group to fund your little revenge project, you can destroy me? I built this company! I control the local politicians! I will have your grandfather’s tech licenses tied up in federal litigation for the next ten years!"
My bodyguards instantly moved forward, their large frames forming an iron wall between us. I stepped between them, coming within two feet of my former husband. I looked down at his polished boots, then up to his bloodshot eyes.
"The sugar daddy is my grandfather, Alejandro," I said, my voice dropping into a whisper that made his breath freeze. "My mother was Valeria Serrano. The only daughter of Ernesto Serrano. When you ordered your guards to beat me in the parking garage of Montiel Tower, you didn't just attack your wife. You attacked the sole heir to the largest maritime fortune in this country."
Alejandro’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. The information seemed to physically strike him, his shoulders dropping as the realization of his error finally penetrated his arrogance.
"No..." he whispered. "No, your mother was a schoolteacher from Naucalpan. We checked your background. Your file was clean."
"My grandfather spent twenty-six years cleaning it to keep her safe from people like your father," I said.
I turned to Doña Teresa, who was watching me with wide, terrified eyes.
"Teresa," I said, walking over to her chair. "Tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM, a moving crew from Serrano Logistics will arrive at your house in Las Lomas. They are going to repossess every single piece of furniture, every painting, and every silk scarf I paid for over the last three years. If you refuse to open the door, the federal marshals will open it for you under the asset recovery warrant we secured this afternoon."
"You can't do that!" she sobbed, her aristocratic voice cracking into a high-pitched whine. "Where am I supposed to live?"
"You have that nice apartment in Miami, Teresa," I said, smiling down at her. "The one your son bought you with the stolen shareholder money. Enjoy it while you can, because the financial intelligence unit is filing the seizure notice on Monday morning."
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I turned back to Alejandro, who was staring at the floor, his entire empire turning to ash in his mouth.
"Enjoy your last night in the tower, Alejandro," I said, turning toward the doors. "On Monday, my name goes on the gate."
