Chapter 2 - THE FROZEN MORNING
Arturo Brooks poured himself a fresh cup of espresso from the kitchen counter, stepping over the threshold of the master suite with an annoyed grunt.
“Elena? Are you still sulking upstairs because Brenda wants to open her studio?” he barked, his voice echoing off the minimalist white walls.
Silence answered him.
Frowning, he walked down the stairs and tossed his car keys onto the kitchen island. That was when he saw it.
In the center of the white marble table sat his gold wedding band.
Right beside it was a copy of the emergency medical report from Hospital Ángeles, detailing second-degree chemical burns to the face and neck, accompanied by the graphic, high-resolution photographs taken by the hospital's forensic social worker.
And beneath the report lay a single, typed legal summons bearing the seal of the Federal District Court.
Arturo scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping his throat. “Dramatic. Absolutely childish,” he muttered, picking up the medical report and tossing it carelessly into the trash can. “She’ll be back by nightfall. She has nowhere else to go.”
He grabbed his briefcase, checked his Rolex, and walked out the door to his gleaming black Audi Q7. He had a 10:30 AM board meeting with the investors financing the Polanco development project. Everything was riding on that expansion. Brenda needed the deposit cleared, and Arturo needed to prove to his partners that his personal life was under strict, patriarchal control.
When he pulled into the underground parking garage of his corporate headquarters on Paseo de la Reforma, he noticed something strange.
His usual parking space—reserved with a polished brass plaque bearing his name—was blocked by a pair of federal marshals in dark tactical vests.
Arturo rolled down his window, his face flushing with arrogant indignation. “What is the meaning of this? Move this vehicle immediately. I have an executive board meeting in fifteen minutes.”
The lead marshal didn't even blink. He walked up to the driver's side door, pulled it open, and yanked Arturo out by his lapels before he could protest.
“Arturo Brooks?” the marshal asked coldly.
“Are you out of your mind? Do you know who I am? I am the majority stakeholder of—”
“You are currently under federal arrest and subject to asset forfeiture,” the marshal interrupted, snapping heavy steel cuffs around Arturo’s wrists. “You are being charged with aggravated assault, corporate fraud, forgery of trust documents, and embezzlement.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Arturo’s knees buckled slightly, the cold concrete biting into his Italian leather shoes. “There’s... there’s some mistake. Call my wife! Call Elena! She’ll straighten this out!”
May you like
The marshal gave a harsh, humorless chuckle.
“Mr. Brooks,” the officer said as he shoved Arturo toward the back of an unmarked cruiser, “your wife isn't answering your calls anymore. And as for your assets? They don't belong to you.”
