Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Execution
The air inside the forty-second-floor boardroom vanished.
Ricardo sat frozen in his leather chair, his eyes darting wildly between his boss, the external auditors, and his wife. He let out a nervous, breathless laugh that sounded shrill and pathetic in the quiet room.
"C-Chairwoman?" Ricardo stammered, pulling at his collar. "Mr. Beltrán, what kind of joke is this? This is my wife, Camila. She runs a small pastry shop in Roma. She doesn't have anything to do with Grupo Nébula!"
Sofía Mercado stepped forward, laying a thick stack of certified legal documents onto the glass table directly in front of Ricardo.
"Mr. Luján," Sofía said coldly. "Five years ago, before you were even hired as a mid-level manager at Grupo Nébula, Miss Camila Torres established Horizonte Capital Trust. Horizonte holds sixty-two percent of the voting equity in Grupo Nébula's parent entity. Your wife isn't an employee, a guest, or a dependent. She is the principal owner of the entire enterprise you work for."
Ricardo turned pale. The blood drained from his face so fast he felt dizzy. He looked at Camila, expecting her to laugh, expecting her to drop the act. But Camila merely stood beside the head of the table, her dark eyes staring down at him with a cold, piercing indifference that chilled him to the bone.
"No... no, that's impossible," Ricardo whispered, his hands trembling as he flipped frantically through the legal papers on the table. "She bakes bread! She lives in my apartment! She cooks for my mother!"
"I cooked for your mother because I believed in humility, Ricardo," Camila spoke for the first time, her voice echoing through the boardroom like a hammer hitting glass. "I kept my corporate identity quiet because I wanted a simple life. I wanted a husband who loved me for who I was, not for the size of my portfolio. But you didn't want a wife. You wanted a servant you could intimidate to feed your fragile ego."
"Camila... honey..." Ricardo scrambled out of his seat, his polished confidence entirely shattered. He reached out to grab her arm, but two muscular corporate security guards stepped instantly between them, blocking his path. "Listen to me... there's been a terrible misunderstanding! I didn't know about your accident yesterday! I thought... I thought you were just exaggerating!"
"You knew I was hit by a truck," Camila replied smoothly. "You called forty-seven times not to ask if my lungs were crushed or if my legs were broken, but to demand salt-free soup for a woman who sits in my penthouse all day criticizing my life."
Arturo Beltrán cleared his throat, pulling a official corporate folder from his desk.
"Ricardo Luján," Arturo announced sternly. "Effective immediately, by direct order of the majority shareholder, your employment at Grupo Nébula is terminated for gross ethical violations, misuse of corporate expense accounts, and reputational risk. Your company vehicle, corporate credit cards, and executive access badges are revoked as of this second."
"You can't fire me!" Ricardo yelled, panic turning his voice into a screech. "I built the Q3 distribution network! The company will collapse without my oversight!"
"The distribution network was designed by our operations team in Guadalajara," Arturo said coldly. "You simply signed your name on their reports. Security, escort Mr. Luján out of the building immediately."
"Wait!" Beatriz's shrill voice cut through the hallway as she barged into the boardroom, holding her designer handbag. "What is going on here?! Ricardo, why are these guards touching you?!"
Beatriz glared at Camila, her face twisted in rage. "You stupid, ungrateful girl! Is this your revenge because my son yelled at you? You're ruining his career! Do you have any idea how hard my son worked to become regional director?!"
Camila slowly turned her head to look at the woman who had treated her like a servant for three years.
"He didn't work hard, Beatriz," Camila said softly. "He occupied a chair I permitted him to sit in. And speaking of things that don't belong to you..."
Camila looked at Sofía, who handed a second legal envelope directly to Beatriz.
"Mrs. Beatriz Luján," Sofía stated smoothly. "This is an emergency eviction notice for the Polanco penthouse. Since the property is registered under Miss Torres’s sole pre-marital capital trust, you have exactly two hours to vacate the premises. Any personal items left behind after two o'clock will be removed by court marshals and donated to charity."
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Beatriz’s eyes bulged. She clutched her pearl necklace, gasping for air. "Evict me?! You're throwing me out onto the street?! I am an elderly woman! I need my special low-sodium meals! I need my rest!"
"Then I suggest you find a restaurant with good soup," Camila said coldly. "Because my kitchen is officially closed."
