Chapter 6 - THE CONFESSION IN CELL BLOCK BTwelve hours later. Christmas Day, 10:00 AM.
The Santa Martha Women's Correctional Facility was cold, grey, and smelled of stale bleach and damp concrete.
Ofelia sat behind a thick pane of scratched plexiglass in the visitor's room. Her hair, usually perfectly styled in high-end salons, was disheveled and greasy. Her expensive designer sweater was gone, replaced by a oversized grey inmate uniform.
Across from her sat Daniela, wearing an elegant ivory wool coat, looking pristine and completely untouched by the chaos of the night before.
Ofelia slammed her fists against the glass. “You bitch! You set us up! You knew Mauricio was going to take the drink!”
Daniela picked up the phone receiver attached to the wall. Ofelia reluctantly snatched hers off the hook.
“I didn't set anyone up, Ofelia,” Daniela said calmly into the receiver. “You bought the neurotoxin two months ago from a discredited pharmacist in Guadalajara. You hid it in your nightstand. You brought it to my home on Christmas Eve with the explicit intent of ending my life so your pathetic, useless son could inherit my hard-earned empire.”
“He is my son!” Ofelia spat, tears of rage welling in her tired eyes. “He deserved everything you had! You treated him like an employee!”
“Because that’s all he was!” Daniela shot back, her tone sharp as a razor. “Mauricio didn't design a single building. He didn't win a single contract. He was a charm salesman who used my talent to buy his way into country clubs! And you... you were so blinded by greed that you didn't even realize he was planning to leave you behind in a prison cell while he flew to Florida with his mistress!”
Ofelia’s hand holding the receiver began to shake. “He... he promised he was taking me to Miami with him...”
Daniela pulled a printed document from her purse and pressed it against the glass.
It was a copy of Mauricio’s flight reservation.
PASSENGERS:
MAURICIO RUIZ (FIRST CLASS)
VANESSA LORENZ (FIRST CLASS)
There was no third ticket.
Ofelia stared at the piece of paper. Her breath became shallow. The last remaining wall of her denial crumbled instantly. The realization that her own child—the boy she had protected, spoiled, and ultimately committed murder for—had treated her like garbage broke her spirit completely.
“He... he left me...” Ofelia whimpered, her voice cracking.
“He didn't just leave you, Ofelia. He gave the police your name as the sole mastermind behind the poisoning plot during his initial interrogation this morning,” Daniela revealed brutally. “He told the prosecutor that he had no idea what was in the decanter, and that you acted out of bitter jealousy because I refused to pay off Lorena’s gambling debts.”
Ofelia let out a guttural, heartbroken howl that echoed off the cold concrete walls of the visitor's room.
“He traded your life for a potential plea deal,” Daniela added, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s the monster you raised.”
Ofelia sank onto the metal stool, weeping hysterically, her forehead pressed against the cold glass. “What... what do you want from me, Daniela? You’ve won. You took my son, you took my daughter, you put us all in cages... what more do you want?”
Daniela leaned in close to the glass.
“I want the name of the person who gave Mauricio the cartel contact,” Daniela said, her eyes burning with a fierce, dangerous intensity. “Mauricio is an idiot. He doesn't have the brains to coordinate a high-level money-laundering network with international drug cartels. Someone else directed him to me. Someone inside my inner circle.”
Ofelia stopped crying. She looked up through her tear-blurred eyes, terrified. “If I tell you... they will kill me in here.”
“If you don't tell me,” Daniela replied coldly, “I will ensure you get maximum sentence without parole—thirty years in this hellhole. Tell me who it is, and I’ll have my lawyers negotiate a transferred sentence to a low-security facility in your hometown.”
Ofelia swallowed hard. Her body trembled as she leaned toward the microphone.
“It... it wasn't Mauricio’s idea,” Ofelia stammered, her voice barely audible. “It was... it was your father’s former business partner. The man who gave you the initial loan to start Aura Architecture eight years ago.”
Daniela’s heart skipped a beat. “...Julian Vane?”
Ofelia nodded slowly. “Julian owns the cartel’s bank in Panama. He gave Mauricio the money to buy those shell shares. He wanted Aura Architecture because of the government contracts you signed last month for the new international airport... he wanted to use your construction sites to move illegal cargo across the border.”
Daniela sat in complete silence for three long seconds.
The pieces of the grand puzzle finally fell into place.
It wasn't just a bitter mother-in-law. It wasn't just a greedy, cheating husband.
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It was a corporate execution executed by the man she had trusted like a second father.
Daniela hung up the receiver without saying another word, stood up, and walked out of the visitor's room, her heels clicking loudly against the stone floor.
