Chapter 2 - The Silent Night Before the Storm
I carried my mother, Doña Carmen, to the guest bedroom at the far end of the house, away from the toxic air of the main suite. My heart ached as I helped her change out of her wet clothes and wrapped her in a dry, warm blanket. She clung to my hand, her eyes filled with a deep-seated fear that no mother should ever have to feel around her own children.
"Alejandro, please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "She is powerful. Her family has connections in the city. If you don't sign, she will put me away. I cannot survive in a place like that, son."
"Look at me, Mamá," I said, kneeling beside her bed and kissing her trembling, red hands. "Do you remember what you told me when Dad passed away and we had nothing but a small grill and a dream in Iztapalapa?"
She swallowed hard, a tiny nod escaping her. "That a Harlan-Vance never bows to a bully."
"Exactly," I whispered, a cold determination settling deep into my bones. "You carried me on your back when I was a boy. Now, let me carry you. Sleep tonight, Mamá. Tomorrow, the nightmare ends."
I closed her door softly and walked back down the hallway.
Renata was waiting for me in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of expensive red wine. She looked at me with an insufferable smirk of superiority.
"Is the maid tucked in?" she asked, taking a slow sip. "Good. You have twelve hours to look over the notary papers, Alejandro. I suggest you read them carefully. Once you sign over the power of attorney of Harlan Logistics, you will still get a small monthly allowance. I'm not completely heartless. But your mother leaves this house by tomorrow afternoon."
"I've made my decision, Renata," I said, keeping my face completely blank.
"I knew you'd see reason," she laughed, stepping closer and trying to run a manicured hand down my chest. I stepped back, avoiding her touch. Her eyes narrowed, but her smirk quickly returned. "Get some rest, husband. Tomorrow is a big day."
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I didn't sleep that night. Instead, I sat in my home office, staring at the cloud storage app on my phone. The folder labeled "Smoke Detector—Patio" was fully synced. It contained over fifty hours of high-definition footage and crystal-clear audio of Renata's psychological abuse of my mother, her boasting about bribing doctors to declare my mother mentally unfit, and her plotting with her lover—my own chief financial officer, Hugo.
I forwarded the entire encrypted file to my attorney, Licenciado Torres, along with a simple message: “Everything is ready. Prepare the stage.”
