Chapter 6 - The Council of WolvesThe formal boardroom of Villaseñor Holdings on the 40th floor of the Santa Fe tower felt more like a medieval courtroom.
Mahogany paneling, heavy leather chairs, and twelve elderly board members—all loyal to Ignacio—sat in absolute silence as Diego walked in, holding Marisol’s hand firmly in his own. Valentina was sitting in a stroller beside them, playing quietly with a wooden puzzle.
Ignacio sat at the head of the long table, a smug, triumphant smirk twisting his wrinkled face.
"Let us dispense with the pleasantries," Ignacio announced, tapping his cane against the polished floor. "According to Article 7 of the Villaseñor Trust, any successor to the controlling stake must be born of a sanctioned, dynastic marriage approved by the senior council. Marisol Morales is a former domestic employee with zero lineage, zero social standing, and zero legal claim."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the elderly board members.
"We cannot allow the crown jewel of Mexican enterprise to be handed over to a kitchen maid's bastard," one board member declared loudly.
Diego stepped forward, his fury radiating like invisible heat. Before he could unleash a legal barrage that would strip every single one of them of their pensions, Marisol gently stepped in front of him.
She let go of his hand. She straightened her posture, her eyes clear, bright, and completely devoid of fear.
"You think I care about your stocks?" Marisol’s voice rang out, clear and resonant, echoing off the high glass walls of the boardroom.
The room went dead silent.
"For four years, I raised my daughter in a single room with no running hot water," Marisol said, walking slowly toward the head of the table, her gaze locked onto Ignacio. "I washed floors, I scrubbed toilets, and I survived without a single cent of your cursed empire. I didn't come to this house for your money, and I didn't fall in love with Diego for his bank accounts."
She reached down, picked up a single sheet of paper from the side table—a document Diego had secretly prepared weeks ago—and slammed it down in front of Ignacio.
"Read that, Senator-wannabe."
May you like
Ignacio frowned, squinting down at the paper. As his eyes scanned the text, his face turned the color of old parchment.
It wasn't a request for inclusion in the trust. It was a complete corporate divestment and asset freeze.
