Chapter 5 - The Fallout
The next morning, the local news channels were buzzing with breaking headlines. Prominent Real Estate Heir Arrested Following Domestic Incident at Suburb Estate.
Julian’s pristine public image evaporated overnight. Pictures of him being led out of our gates in handcuffs, flanked by police officers, plastered every major news site and social media feed. His friends who had stood silently in the garage were quick to turn state's evidence, handing over text messages and past accounts of Julian’s explosive temper to investigators to save their own skins.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of our living room, watching the rain pour down onto the driveway where Mateo’s ruined roadster had already been towed to a specialized recovery garage.
Dad walked up beside me, handing me a steaming mug of black coffee.
“The prosecutor called,” Dad said softly. “They’re adding felony domestic violence, destruction of private property, and intimidation to the charges. With the video footage Marcus recovered from the garage security camera—yes, the garage had a hidden lens you didn't know about—he’s not walking away from this with probation.”
I took the mug, my hands steady for the first time in months. “Thank you, Dad.”
“Never thank me for protecting my family,” Dad said, wrapping a heavy arm around my shoulders. “You carried this alone for too long, Lena. That stops today. You are an Ortiz. No man ever touches you again without paying in blood and steel.”
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“What about Uncle Mateo’s car?” I asked, glancing toward the empty space in the garage.
“A car can be rebuilt,” Dad smiled faintly, a spark of warmth returning to his dark eyes. “Metal can be hammered out, and paint can be matched. But my daughter cannot be replaced. We’ll restore the roadster, bolt by bolt. Just give it time.”
