Chapter 4 - THE INFILTRATION
Héctor’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Verónica wasn't waiting to slowly manipulate him anymore. She realized she was losing control tonight when he refused to let her take the boys to her clinic. She was moving her timeline up.
She had come to enforce her legal power of attorney—or finish the job entirely.
Héctor didn't hesitate. He grabbed the heavy Sig Sauer 9mm pistol from the hidden drawer beneath his desk, racked the slide, and jammed it into his waistband.
He sprinted out of the study and dashed down the corridor toward the nursery.
"Gael! Nicholas!" he muttered under his breath, his pulse racing like a runaway train.
He burst into the nursery, but as he reached for the crib, a cold shadow moved from behind the heavy blackout curtains near the balcony.
"Don't make a sound, Mr. Salvatierra," a low, firm voice commanded in the dark.
Héctor drew his weapon instantly, aiming it straight at the intruder's chest. "Step into the light or I swear to God I'll blow your head off!"
The shadow stepped forward into the soft glow of the nightlight.
It was Mariana.
She was dressed in black tactical clothes, holding a heavy cloth bag over her shoulder. She was entirely unarmed, her dark eyes steady and fierce.
"You?" Héctor gasped, his gun hand shaking. "You lied to me! You’re not a housekeeper! You’re Dr. Mariana Torres!"
"Yes," Mariana answered without a hint of fear. "I am a pediatric doctor whose life was ruined by the woman currently entering your home with three armed mercenaries. Now put that gun away before you accidentally shoot your own sons."
"Why are you here?!" Héctor demanded, keeping the gun leveled at her. "Did you come to frame her? Did you use my sons as pawns in your personal vendetta?!"
"Look at your sons, Héctor!" Mariana said, her voice dripping with intense authority. "Look at them!"
Héctor cast a quick glance at the crib. The babies were sleeping peacefully, still wrapped in the rebozo.
"I spent six months investigating Verónica after she framed me for medical malpractice to cover up her illegal human trials," Mariana said, stepping closer, ignoring the gun pointed at her chest. "When I realized she had targeted your late wife, I tried to warn the authorities. No one believed me. You were too powerful, and she was too protected. So I altered my identity. I took a job as a maid in this house to monitor what she was doing to your boys."
"What was she doing to them?" Héctor’s voice cracked.
"She wasn't trying to heal their grief, Héctor! She was micro-dosing them with neurological toxins through their specialized formula—the exact same formula she prescribed! She was making them sick, making them cry, making them fail to thrive so she could prove you were an unfit father and claim legal guardianship of the Salvatierra estate!"
Héctor felt as though he had been hit by a freight train. The constant crying. The rejection of physical contact. The developmental delays. It wasn't grief. It was poisoning.
"Oh God..." Héctor whispered, lowering his gun as sheer terror washed over him. "I did this to them... I trusted her..."
"You were deceived by a predator," Mariana said, her voice softening slightly. "But right now, you don't have time to beat yourself up. Verónica’s men are coming up the back stairs. They have fake court warrants and medical emergency orders to seize the children tonight. If she takes them out of this house, they will suffer a 'tragic medical emergency' in transit, and you will never see them alive again."
Down the hallway, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
"Héctor?" Verónica’s voice drifted down the corridor, sweet, melodious, and utterly terrifying. "Héctor, darling? I brought emergency medical technicians. We noticed alarming vitals on the twins' remote monitors. Open the door, please."
Héctor looked at Mariana. "How do we get them out?"
"The service elevator in the pantry leads directly to the subterranean garage," Mariana said swiftly. She moved to the crib, picked up Gael and Nicholas with master skill, securing them tightly against her body with the woven carrier. "I have an unmarked vehicle parked two blocks away outside the gate."
"No," Héctor said, his eyes hardening with absolute authority. "I am not running from my own home. I am the head of the Salvatierra family."
"Héctor, they are armed!"
"So am I," Héctor replied, racking his gun again. "Take my sons down the service elevator. Go to the safehouse in Santa Fe—the address is coded in my car's GPS. Take my armored SUV from Bay 3. Here are the keys."
He shoved the keys into Mariana’s hands.
"What are you going to do?" Mariana asked, staring at him.
"I’m going to buy you five minutes," Héctor said, a dark, dangerous smile breaking across his face. "And then I’m going to tear Verónica’s world down to the ground."
Before Mariana could reply, Héctor turned, walked out of the nursery, and slammed the heavy oak doors shut behind him, locking them from the outside.
He walked down the dim corridor, stepping into the center of the grand hallway just as Verónica and three towering men wearing dark tactical gear reached the top of the stairs.
Verónica stopped, a fake look of deep concern plastered on her face. "Héctor! Thank goodness. The medical sensors flagged severe infant distress. Move aside so my team can stabilize the twins."
Héctor raised his gun, pointing it directly at the center of Verónica’s forehead.
"The game is over, Dr. Ibarra," Héctor said, his voice as cold as ice. "I listened to the tape."
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Verónica’s fake expression of concern instantly froze.
The color drained completely from her face.
