Chapter 3 - The Price of Treason
By noon, the story of the "Doctoral Defense Assault" had demolished the news cycle across Mexico.
Video clips taken by students in the auditorium flooded social media platforms, garnering millions of views within hours. The contrast between Selena’s serene, brilliant composure with her chopped hair, and the terrifying security footage of her assault, turned her into an instant national icon of resilience.
In a quiet private room on the third floor of the university administration building, Selena sat on a leather sofa. A female stylist—personally hired by Don Aurelio—was finishing a delicate touch-up on Selena’s short hair, shaping it into a sleek, modern, elegant French pixie cut that highlighted her high cheekbones and sharp, dark eyes.
The door opened, and Don Aurelio stepped in, holding two porcelain cups of espresso. He motioned for the stylist to leave.
He sat down across from his daughter, handing her a cup. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"You should have told me three years ago, Selena," Don Aurelio said, his voice quiet, stripped of his corporate grandeur. "When you told me you were marrying a high school history teacher from Querétaro, I thought he was simple. I didn't know he was a parasite."
"I wanted to build something that was mine, Dad," Selena replied softly, taking a sip of the warm espresso. "If I brought your name with me everywhere, people would have said my doctorate was bought by Herrera Agronomics. I wanted every word of my thesis to belong to me."
Don Aurelio looked at her short hair, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to gently touch the edge of her collar. "He hurt you."
"He thought he chopped off my strength," Selena said, her eyes flashing with cold fire. "He only chopped off my patience."
"Good," Don Aurelio smiled—a rare, dangerous smile. "Because my attorneys have finished investigating Mr. Héctor Luján’s background over the last four hours. He didn't just assault you last night, Selena. He’s been planning your financial destruction for over a year."
Don Aurelio laid a thick manila folder on the glass table.
Selena opened it. Inside were bank statements, property titles, and forged signature documents.
"Héctor was never a simple history teacher," Don Aurelio explained. "He accumulated over four million pesos in gambling debts through illegal online sports books in Guadalajara. Six months ago, he forged your signature on a mortgage application, trying to put a lien on your small family trust land in Coahuila to cover his debts."
Selena stared at her forged signature on the legal document. "He knew I was about to graduate. He knew that once I earned my Ph.D. and took a university post, I would review my tax filings..."
"Precisely," Don Aurelio said. "He and his mother wanted to break your spirit last night so you would skip your defense, miss your academic appointment, and fall into a severe depression. Then, Beatriz was going to convince you to sign over power of attorney to Héctor so he could 'manage your affairs' while you recovered."
Selena closed the folder with a sharp click. "They didn't just want to control me. They wanted to steal my life."
"They have stolen nothing," Don Aurelio said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "My legal team has already frozen every account associated with Héctor and his mother. The apartment in Coyoacán—which was purchased using funds from your educational stipend—has been reclaimed. And at two o'clock today, the university board will formally announce the verdict of your defense."
Selena stood up, smoothing her navy blazer. She walked over to the mirror.
May you like
The woman looking back at her was no longer the quiet, timid researcher who swallowed insults at her mother-in-law's dinner table. The short hair framed a face forged in battle.
"Let's go get my degree, Dad," Selena said.
