Chapter 4 - The Fortress
Mateo ran.
He didn't care about his suit, he didn't care about the onlookers recording him on their phones as he screamed at taxi drivers, throwing thousands of pesos at them to run every red light in the city.
The taxi slammed to a halt at the entrance of his estate in San Pedro.
Mateo leaped out of the car, his eyes widening in horror.
The massive iron gates he was so proud of—the gates that had cost him eighty thousand dollars—were completely torn off their hinges, lying twisted and broken on the lawn. The circular driveway was scarred with tire tracks.
The front entrance of his mansion was gaping open, the grand glass doors shattered into millions of sparkling pieces across the stone steps.
“CAMILA!” Mateo shrieked, running inside.
He burst into the foyer.
The air smelled of copper and ozone. On the floor at the foot of the stairs, a massive, dried pool of dark blood stained his white Italian marble floor.
Beside the blood sat a small, broken object.
Mateo fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he picked it up.
It was Camila’s phone. The screen was shattered, but on the glass, smeared with dried blood, were her thumbprints.
“No... no, no, no...” Mateo sobbed, clutching the broken phone to his chest.
Suddenly, the heavy footfalls of dress shoes echoed through the empty hall.
Mateo spun around, his eyes red and frantic.
Standing near the shattered entryway was Alejandro Vance. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his arms folded neatly across his chest, his face completely devoid of mercy. Behind him stood two massive security guards in tactical gear.
“YOU!” Mateo screamed, scrambling to his feet, his fingers twitching wildly. “What did you do to my house?! Where is my wife?! What did you do to Camila?!”
Mateo lunged forward, his fist raised, completely blinded by rage.
Before he could get within three feet of Alejandro, one of the security guards stepped forward, grabbed Mateo’s wrist with an iron grip, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him face-down onto the cold marble floor—right beside the dried pool of his wife’s blood.
Mateo screamed in pain and humiliation, his cheek pressed flat against the hard stone.
“Get your hands off me! I’ll kill you, Vance! I’ll hire the best lawyers in the country! I’ll destroy you!”
Alejandro walked forward slowly, his polished leather boots stopping inches from Mateo’s face. He looked down at the man whimpering on the floor with utter disgust.
“You won't hire anyone, Mateo,” Alejandro said, his voice smooth, quiet, and terrifyingly cold. “Because as of nine o'clock this morning, you don't even own the shirt on your back.”
“You breached my gate! You kidnapped my pregnant wife!” Mateo spat, tears of rage spilling from his eyes. “I’m calling the police!”
“Call them,” Alejandro invited softly. “In fact, the Chief of Police is currently reviewing the emergency recording from Camila’s phone. The recording where she begged you for help while she lay hemorrhaging on this floor, and you rejected seventeen consecutive calls to stay at El Cielo with your mistress.”
Mateo froze. The blood drained completely from his face.
“You... you have that...?” Mateo whispered.
“I have everything, Mateo,” Alejandro said, stepping closer. “I have your fraudulent financial records. I have the wire transfers you hid in Panama. I have the lease agreements for the apartment you bought Valeria with company money. And most importantly... I have Camila.”
“Where is she?!” Mateo sobbed, his bravado utterly broken. “Is she... is the baby...?”
Alejandro leaned down, bringing his face close to Mateo’s.
“She almost died on this floor, Mateo. Because you were too busy taking shots of mezcal to answer your phone, her placenta detached. She went into hypovolemic shock. If my medical team had arrived four minutes later, both she and your son would be dead.”
Son.
The word hung in the cold air like a suspended blade.
“My... my son...?” Mateo gasped, a sob choking his throat. “Is he alive? Please, Alejandro... is my boy alive?!”
Alejandro stared at him, his dark eyes unblinking.
“He is alive,” Alejandro said slowly. “He was born six hours ago via emergency surgery. He’s in a specialized neonatal incubator at my private medical facility.”
Mateo let out a ragged gasp of relief. “Thank God... thank God... take me to them! Let me see my family!”
Alejandro stood up straight, smoothing his tie.
“You don't have a family anymore, Mateo.”
“What... what do you mean?” Mateo stammered, fighting against the guard’s grip.
Alejandro pulled a document from inside his breast pocket and tossed it onto the floor next to Mateo’s face.
“That is a temporary restraining order issued by a judge two hours ago,” Alejandro said. “You are legally barred from coming within one thousand yards of Camila or the child. Furthermore, Camila signed an emergency power of attorney transferring full management of her estate, her trust, and her legal rights to my firm.”
“She wouldn't do that!” Mateo shrieked. “She loves me! You manipulated her!”
“She watched you reject her calls while she was dying, Mateo,” Alejandro said, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. “She never wants to see your face again.”
Alejandro turned his back on Mateo and walked toward the broken doorway.
“Reyes,” Alejandro called to his security chief. “Throw this garbage off the property. If he sets foot on this land again, have him arrested for criminal trespassing.”
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“ALANJANDRO! NO! PLEASE!” Mateo screamed, dragging his body across the floor, his hands reaching desperately for Alejandro’s boots. “THAT’S MY SON! THAT’S MY SON!”
The guards dragged Mateo backward across the cold marble, his screams echoing through the vast, empty rooms of the house he had lost in a single night.
