Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips
By 8:00 AM, Sofia was safely asleep in a secured bedroom at Alexander’s heavily guarded estate in North Dallas. A private doctor had already examined her, documenting every single one of the forty slaps, the defensive bruises on her arms, and the hairline fracture in her wrist.
Alexander and I sat in his massive, dimly lit study. The silence between us was heavy with the weight of our failed past, but united by an absolute fury for our daughter's present.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently on the mahogany desk. The caller ID displayed a name that made my stomach turn: Javier.
Alexander didn't hesitate. He reached over, pressed the speakerphone button, and nodded at me to answer.
"Elena," Javier’s voice came through, smooth, polished, and entirely devoid of panic. He sounded like the charming attorney who had stood at the altar yesterday. "Good morning. I’m calling because Sofia seems to have thrown a bit of a tantrum last night and slipped out of the honeymoon suite. I assume she ran to your apartment?"
I choked back my rage, forcing my voice to remain steady. "She's with me, Javier. What did you do to her?"
A soft, arrogant chuckle echoed from the phone. This time, it wasn't Javier who spoke. The phone had been taken by Carmen Robles.
"Listen to me carefully, Elena," Carmen’s venomous voice sliced through the speaker. "Your daughter is dramatic and undisciplined. She insulted my family on her wedding night. We are willing to overlook her behavior and keep this little marital dispute private, but she needs to return to the hotel immediately with the signed paperwork for the Uptown property. If she doesn't, Javier will file a police report claiming Sofia stole valuable family heirlooms when she fled. We have the connections to ruin her career before it even starts."
Alexander leaned in close to the phone. He didn't yell. His voice was like ice cracking over a frozen lake.
"Carmen," Alexander said softly.
The line went dead silent for a moment. Carmen’s voice lost a fraction of its confidence. "Who is this?"
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"I’m the man who bought that condo," Alexander whispered. "And I am the man who is going to strip everything you own until you and your pathetic son are begging for scraps on the street. Do not call this number again. Look out your window instead."
Alexander slammed the phone down, breaking the plastic casing. He looked at his security chief standing at the door. "Begin."
