Chapter 6 - The Trap and the Mother's Ultimate Sacrifice
Viral Hook: A RANSOM PAID IN BLOOD! MATEO IS KIDNAPPED, AND THE WOMAN HE ASHAMED RUSHES INTO THE FIRE ONCE AGAIN!It happened at 2:00 AM on a rainy Tuesday. Mateo was leaving his shift at the logistics warehouse, his jacket pulled tight against the cold drizzle. As he walked down a dimly lit alleyway toward the bus stop, a black van pulled up with its tires screeching. Three masked men jumped out.
Mateo tried to fight, his new physical labor giving him some strength, but a heavy blow from a metal pipe to his ribs sent him crashing to the wet asphalt. A black hood was pulled over his head, and he was thrown into the back of the vehicle before the doors slammed shut.
Hours later, Mateo woke up tied to a heavy iron chair in the center of an abandoned, derelict textile factory on the outskirts of the city. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
A figure stepped out of the shadows—Ernesto Valenzuela.
"You look remarkably like your father when he’s desperate, Mateo," Ernesto mocked, tapping a cane against the concrete floor. "Too bad you don't possess his security detail. He stripped you of everything, didn't he? Left you out here in the cold like a stray dog. A perfect target."
Ernesto pulled out a satellite phone and dialed Alejandro’s private number, putting it on speakerphone.
"Alejandro," Ernesto said smoothly. "I believe you have something that belongs to me—the corporate dominance of the northern territory. And I have something that belongs to you. Your son."
On the other end of the line, Alejandro’s voice turned deadly. "Ernesto. If you touch a single hair on his head, I will dismantle your entire family piece by piece."
"You can try," Ernesto laughed. "But if the transfer papers for Otero Industries' majority shares aren't signed and delivered to the old textile factory in Iztapalapa within one hour, your secret son will meet the exact same fate his mother was supposed to meet thirty-two years ago. I’ve already lined the walls with gasoline, Alejandro. History loves to repeat itself."
The call disconnected.
What Ernesto didn't know was that Alejandro wasn't alone when the call came through. He had been sitting in a small diner, desperately trying to talk to Carmen, begging her for a chance to explain himself. She had heard every single word of the ransom call.
Before Alejandro could even order his security team to mobilize, Carmen stood up. Her eyes were no longer those of a humble street vendor. They were the eyes of a mother whose child was in mortal danger.
"We are going," Carmen said, her voice dropping all hesitation.
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"Elena, no, it's too dangerous! Ernesto is a psychopath—"
"He has my son, Alejandro!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the fierce, protective instinct that had kept Mateo alive in the poorest slums of the city for twenty-eight years. "You failed to protect us thirty years ago. You will not fail him tonight. Take me there!"
