Chapter 3 - The Cold War of Jalisco
Don Severo paced frantically across the polished mahogany floors of his study. The room, decorated with expensive imported art and hunting trophies, felt suffocatingly hot despite the air conditioning.
"What do you mean the accounts are frozen?!" Severo roared into his satellite phone, slamming his fist onto his desk.
"I don't know, Don Severo!" his personal accountant stammered on the other end, his voice shaking with fear. "A federal audit was launched two hours ago. They are investigating your agricultural exports for money laundering and tax evasion. The bank has blocked all access to your funds. Even the cash from today... we can't touch it."
Severo threw the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces.
"How is this possible?" he hissed, his face red with rage. "Who is this boy?!"
Before he could process the panic, his estate foreman burst into the room without knocking. "Don Severo! You need to come outside! Now!"
Severo rushed to his balcony, looking out over his vast agave fields. What he saw made his blood run cold.
Dozens of heavy drilling rigs and water tankers, bearing the logo of Vanguard Global, were parked along the perimeter of his property. Armed private security guards were setting up high-tech, concrete-reinforced barriers right along the legal boundary lines.
Severo ran down the stairs, jumping into his pickup truck and speeding to the edge of his property. He jumped out, his hands trembling with fury as he confronted the foreman of the drilling crew.
"What the hell do you think you're doing on my land?!" Severo screamed.
A voice called out from behind a parked SUV. "It's not your land, Severo."
Mateo stepped forward, wearing a hard hat and holding a set of blue-stamped blueprints.
"I did some research into the municipal water rights of this valley," Mateo said smoothly, pointing to the massive drilling rigs. "It turns out, the natural underground spring that feeds your entire agave plantation actually originates on the small plot of land you tried to steal from my father, Elías, this morning. And since that land is now legally cleared of all debts, we have begun constructing a deep-well filtration system."
Severo’s eyes widened in horror. "You... you're blocking my water?"
"Not blocking," Mateo corrected him with a cold grin. "Just redirecting what legally belongs to my father's property. Without this spring, your high-yield agave plants will wither and die within three weeks. You won't be able to fulfill your contracts with the international tequila distributors."
"I'll sue you! I'll have the local police lock you up by sunset!" Severo screamed, spit flying from his lips.
"Go ahead," Mateo replied calmly, pulling out a tablet and showing Severo a live feed of the federal courthouse in Guadalajara. "My legal team is currently filing a federal injunction. We have presented the court with evidence of your illegal water siphoning over the last twenty years. The local police have already been stripped of their jurisdiction over this case. Try calling your pet judge. I promise you, he won't answer."
Severo felt the earth tilt beneath his feet. For twenty-five years, he had ruled this valley through fear and bribery. But now, he was facing an adversary who didn't play by local rules. Mateo was fighting him with the unstoppable force of federal law, massive capital, and absolute proof of his crimes.
Desperate, Severo lunged at Mateo, reaching for his concealed pistol.
But before his hand could even touch the holster, three red laser dots appeared on his chest. Mateo's security team didn't even draw their weapons; they simply stood in perfect formation, their intentions crystal clear.
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Mateo didn't even flinch. He looked down at Severo with profound pity.
"Go home, Severo," Mateo said quietly. "Enjoy your mansion while you still can. Because by next week, I am going to evict you from it."
