Chapter 3 - MIDNIGHT AT THE MANSIONThe rain hammered relentlessly against the reinforced glass windows of Adrián Valdés's penthouse overlooking Monterrey. Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the storm outside—warm, quiet, and smelling faintly of chamomile and old books.
Upstairs, Renata, Emilia, and Lucía had finally fallen asleep in the plush, silk-sheeted guest suites. For the first time in their young lives, they weren't shivering, and they weren't listening to the terrifying sound of their grandmother screaming down the hallway.
Down in the sprawling, minimalist kitchen, Mariana stood by the marble island, holding a steaming mug of tea that Adrián had insisted she drink.
"You don't have to fight this war for me, Mr. Valdés," Mariana said softly, staring into the dark amber liquid. "Beatriz is powerful. She has politicians in her pocket, judges who owe her favors, and half the elite of San Pedro eating out of her hand. If you help me, you risk destroying your own reputation, your hospital network, your entire life's work."
Adrián walked over, setting his own mug down with a quiet clink. He stood close enough that Mariana could feel the steady warmth radiating from him, yet he gave her respectful space.
"My reputation wasn't handed to me on a silver spoon, Mariana," Adrián said, his voice softening. "I built it from the ground up. And if there is one thing I despise more than anything else in this world, it is people who use their wealth and power to crush the helpless."
He reached out, his thumb gently brushing against the faint, reddish mark still lingering on her cheek where Beatriz had struck her. Mariana involuntarily flinched, but she didn't pull away.
"She called my daughters useless," Mariana whispered, a tear finally breaking free and tracking down her face. "She looked at three innocent little girls who just lost their father, and she treated them like garbage. I can take the slaps. I can take the starvation, the cold floors, the endless work. But I will never, ever let her take my children."
"She won't," Adrián vowed, his eyes locking onto hers with fierce, unyielding intensity. "By tomorrow afternoon, the entire foundation will be under federal investigation. My forensic accountants didn't just find fake signatures on those wire transfers. They found something much bigger."
"What did they find?" Mariana asked, her breath catching.
"The three million pesos Beatriz claims you stole?" Adrián smiled grimly. "You didn't steal it, Mariana. You were the decoy. That money never went into your accounts. It was funneled directly into an offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands—a company registered under a very specific, very unexpected name: Guillermo Alcázar."
May you like
Mariana gasped, dropping her mug. It shattered against the tile floor, hot tea splashing everywhere.
Guillermo wasn't just anyone. He was Beatriz’s golden-boy younger brother—and the current Chief Financial Officer of the Alcázar Foundation.
