Chapter 4 - The Audit of the CenturyVerónica stepped further into the foyer, her heels echoing like gunshots against the stone. She didn't look at Mauricio; she looked past him, treating him with the absolute worst punishment a narcissist could endure: total, chilling irrelevance.
Mateo stepped forward, snapping open his leather briefcase and pulling out a thick stack of certified documents, financial ledgers, and court seals. He handed a single, crisp sheet of paper directly to Ofelia.
Ofelia refused to take it, so Mateo simply dropped it at her feet.
“Property Deed and Title Registry, Folio Number 884-MEX,” Mateo announced clearly, reading from a duplicate copy. “Acquired six months prior to the marriage of Mauricio Alcázar and Verónica Solares. Purchased entirely through Solares Global Holdings. Sole beneficiary and majority shareholder: Verónica Solares. Mauricio Alcázar holds exactly zero point zero percent equity in this asset.”
Ofelia stared down at the paper on the floor as if it were a venomous snake. “That’s forged! My son is an Alcázar! The Alcázar name built this city!”
“The Alcázar name went bankrupt in two thousand eighteen,” Mateo countered smoothly, adjusting his titanium-rimmed glasses. “In fact, Mr. Mauricio Alcázar’s construction firm was three days away from total liquidation and public auction when Mrs. Solares injected twenty-four million pesos of her private venture capital to bail it out. Every contract you ever bragged about landing, Mauricio? Secured because Verónica’s corporate lobbying division bought out your competitors.”
Mauricio staggered backward, gripping the edge of the dining table for support. His knees buckled slightly. “No… no, that’s impossible. You loved me, Verónica. You said we were partners.”
Verónica finally turned her gaze toward him. The look in her eyes wasn't anger; it was an abyss of pure, freezing nothingness.
“I loved the man I thought you were, Mauricio,” Verónica said, her voice steady and lethal. “A man who respected me, who stood by me when our baby died, who didn't let his mother mock our grief. But yesterday, you made a choice. You chose to hit me. You chose to throw me out like trash. And in doing so, you forgot the cardinal rule of parasites: never bite the host that feeds you.”
“Verónica, please…” Mauricio whispered, his voice cracking as he took a desperate step toward her, his hands outstretched in a pathetic plea. “I was angry. Mom got into my head. We can fix this. We can go to counseling. Please… don't do this to us.”
Before Verónica could answer, a shrill, frantic beep echoed from the corner of the room.
It was Uncle Roberto’s phone. He frantically pulled it out of his pocket, staring at the screen in sheer horror.
“Roberto? What is it?” whispered Aunt Clara, trembling.
“My… my business account,” Roberto stammered, his face turning ghostly pale. “It’s… it’s been seized. All our corporate supplier lines have been blocked. Solares Global just recalled every single commercial loan extended to our family businesses.”
Across the room, three other cousins pulled out their phones simultaneously, their faces morphing into identical masks of absolute terror. Alerts were flooding in: credit cards declined, commercial leases terminated, corporate payroll checks bouncing across the board.
The entire extended Alcázar dynasty—a sprawling network of freeloaders who had lived off Verónica’s hard work for years—was collapsing like a house of cards in real-time.
Ofelia let out a piercing, hysterical shriek, grabbing a heavy crystal vase from the sideboard and hurling it directly at Verónica’s head.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll tear your eyes out, you ungrateful whore!” Ofelia screamed, lunging forward with her fingernails bared like claws.
The two private security guards didn't even blink. They stepped forward instantly, intercepting Ofelia mid-air and pinning her arms behind her back with ruthless, professional efficiency.
“Unhand me! Do you know who I am?! I am Ofelia Alcázar!” she shrieked, kicking wildly as her pearl necklace slipped and clattered to the marble floor.
Verónica walked slowly toward her mother-in-law, stopping just inches away. She looked down at the pearls scattered across the stone, then back up into Ofelia’s tear-streaked, furious face.
“You were a queen who forgot she was sitting on a borrowed throne,” Verónica whispered coldly.
She turned to Mateo. “Have the sheriffs escort every single unauthorized trespasser off the property. Every last one of them. And make sure they leave behind every single item purchased with corporate funds. Clothes, jewelry, electronics—everything.”
“You can’t do this!” Mauricio sobbed, dropping heavily to his knees on the marble floor, grabbing the hem of Verónica’s trench coat. “Verónica! Please! Where are we supposed to go? We have nothing!”
May you like
Verónica looked down at her husband—the man who had struck her without hesitation—and calmly, deliberately, pulled her coat free from his trembling grip.
“Find a job,” Verónica said, turning her back on him forever. “Or better yet… ask your mother to support you.”
