Chapter 3 - THE MORNING AMBUSHThe sun broke over the volcanic peaks surrounding Puebla, casting long, golden shadows across the pristine glass facade of Santa Lucía Hospital. Inside the executive boardroom on the fourth floor, the atmosphere was thick with triumph and expensive cologne.
Esteban Mena leaned back in the black leather executive chair—Julián’s chair. He steepled his fingers, looking across the mahogany table at Rebeca Solís, who was casually sipping an artisanal latte brought up by a jittery junior administrator.
"The temporary injunction was approved by Judge Martínez three hours ago," Esteban said, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Julián is legally restricted from entering the administrative wing, and his medical proxy status has been completely nullified due to his 'post-operative cognitive impairment.' By the time he leaves the ICU next week, there won't be a single share of Santa Lucía left in his name."
Rebeca smiled, her red lipstick stark against her pale skin. "I told you, Esteban. My husband was a genius at saving lives, but he was a fool when it came to people. He trusted everyone. He trusted you."
"Loyalty is a commodity, Rebeca," Esteban replied smoothly. "And right now, the market is favoring us."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open with a resounding bang.
Neither Rebeca nor Esteban expected to see who walked through them. It wasn't Julián—he was still hooked to monitors in the ICU.
It was Camilo Duarte, Julián’s fierce, silver-haired corporate attorney, flanked by two armed federal bailiffs and a high-ranking state auditor holding a thick stack of blue binders.
Esteban shot out of his chair, his face flushing crimson. "What is the meaning of this? This is a private corporate meeting! You have no jurisdiction here without prior notice!"
Camilo didn't even look at Esteban. He walked straight to the head of the table, placed a heavy leather folder down with a sharp thud, and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
"Jurisdiction, Dr. Mena?" Camilo’s voice cut through the room like a scalpel. "Let's talk about jurisdiction. And let's talk about corporate fraud."
Rebeca’s smile vanished. "Camilo, don't be absurd. My husband is incapacitated. We are executing a legal marital asset division under Section 4 of the civil code."
"Section 4 applies to marital property acquired during the union, Rebeca," Camilo replied, his eyes cold. "It does not apply to assets held under an irrevocable, pre-nuptial family trust established three years before you and Julián were married—a trust that explicitly designates 100% of the voting shares of Santa Lucía Hospital to an independent biomedical foundation in Switzerland."
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Esteban scoffed, though a bead of sweat formed on his temple. "That trust was dissolved! We checked the registry!"
"You checked the local public registry, Esteban," Camilo corrected, sliding a document across the table. "You forgot to check the international secondary registry. Or perhaps you were too busy embezzling $450,000 yesterday afternoon to notice the digital trap you just walked into."
