Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8: THE PRICE OF COMPROMISE
Two days later, the trap didn't just snap shut—it detonated.
I was at our Manhattan headquarters when the glass doors of the executive suite were pushed open. It wasn't the corporate board. It was a dozen federal agents wearing dark blue jackets with 'FBI' and 'IRS Criminal Investigation' emblazoned across the back.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sofia Vance demanded, slamming her briefcase onto a desk and stepping between the agents and me. "We have an active immunity agreement regarding the Rivas liquidation!"
The lead agent, a stern man with a federal badge clipped to his belt, didn't blink. He handed me a thick, stapled document bearing a federal judge's signature. "The immunity covered your actions in Mexico, Mrs. Mendoza. This is a domestic warrant for financial fraud and conspiracy. Anonymous whistleblowers just provided us with forensic evidence showing that Grupo Salazar absorbed the Rivas logistics division knowing it was actively being used for cross-border contraband. According to these files, you didn't liquidate the crime. You took it over."
I looked down at the documents. My breath hitched. It was a flawless, terrifying masterpiece of forgery. Santiago’s encrypted digital signature was there from a year ago, but right next to it was my current digital certificate, authorized and time-stamped just three weeks ago from my personal IP address.
"Julian," I whispered, the room tilting on its axis. "He never cared about winning a custody battle or a corporate lawsuit. He wanted to frame us so completely that the government would do his dirty work for him."
Right then, my personal cell phone rang. It was an encrypted video call from an unlisted international country code. With shaking fingers, I pressed accept.
The screen flickered to life. It was Santiago. He was sitting in his orange prison jumpsuit, but he wasn't in a standard cell. He was in a private warden's office, a sleek, mocking grin stretching across his face, displaying the chipped tooth from the night my father’s guards had thrown him to the floor. Behind him, the prison guards stood at absolute attention—they hadn't just been bribed; they had been bought wholesale.
"Did you really think you were the smartest person in the room, Valeria?" Santiago laughed, his voice raspy and cruel through the speaker. "My father owns the guards in this prison. He owns the judges in New York. You thought you were a queen just because you put on a sharp blazer, but you’re still just that pathetic, penniless schoolteacher playing with daddy’s money."
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"You're going to die in that cage, Santiago," I snarled, gripping the phone so hard the screen cracked beneath my thumb.
"Maybe," Santiago smiled, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "But while I'm serving my time, my father is taking back what's mine. Check your nursery webcam, Valeria. See how much your daddy’s money can buy you right now."
