Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Luján
While Selena was preparing to receive her academic honors, the legal hammer fell upon Héctor and Beatriz with catastrophic force.
Inside the stark, fluorescent-lit interrogation room of the Northern District Detention Center, Héctor sat wearing a grey prison jumpsuit. His hands were cuffed to the steel table. Across from him sat Attorney Mateo Sterling—the high-powered corporate prosecutor appointed by Don Aurelio, and the nephew of Professor Eduardo Sterling.
Beatriz sat in an adjacent holding cell, wailing hysterically through the bars as female guards repeatedly ordered her to be quiet.
"Mr. Luján," Attorney Mateo Sterling said smoothly, opening a laptop on the metal table. "Let us review your current situation."
Héctor leaned forward, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "I want bail! My mother has high blood pressure! This is a domestic dispute! A husband has a right to discipline—"
"A husband has no right under Mexican federal law to commit assault, false imprisonment, document forgery, or grand larceny," Mateo cut him off with an icy glare. "Because of the public nature of your crime and the overwhelming video evidence, the judge has denied bail. You are classified as a flight risk."
"Denied bail?!" Héctor shrieked, rattling his handcuffs against the table. "You can't do this! I have a job!"
"Correction: you had a job," Mateo corrected smoothly. "An hour ago, the Ministry of Education terminated your teaching license permanently due to moral turpitude and criminal indictments. Furthermore, the land developers in Guadalajara whom you owe four million pesos to have just learned that you possess zero assets, no inheritance, and no access to the Herrera fortune."
Héctor’s breath hitched. A cold sweat drenched his jumpsuit. "What... what do you mean?"
"They know you lied to them when you claimed your wife's family trust was your collateral," Mateo smiled grimly. "When you are eventually released from federal prison in approximately eight to twelve years, those gentlemen will be waiting for you outside the gates."
"No... no, please!" Héctor wept, dropping his head onto the steel table, his tears wetting the cold metal. "Tell Selena I'm sorry! I'll sign the divorce papers! I'll give her everything! Just tell her father to drop the criminal charges!"
"Miss Herrera—now Dr. Herrera—does not care about your apologies," Mateo replied, closing his laptop. "She has already filed for an expedited contested divorce on grounds of extreme cruelty. You will receive nothing. You will own nothing. And you will spend the next decade reflecting on the night you decided to take a pair of scissors to the wrong woman."
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Meanwhile, news of Beatriz’s involvement reached her hometown of Querétaro. Her social club revoked her thirty-year membership, her church group issued a public condemnation of her actions, and local bank authorities began foreclosure proceedings on her suburban house to satisfy the legal fees racked up by her son's fraudulent schemes.
The arrogant matriarch who had spent years lecturing Selena on how to be a "proper wife" was now destitute, publicly humiliated, and facing criminal accessory charges that guaranteed she would spend her golden years behind bars or living in absolute poverty.
