Chapter 7 - The Aftermath-7
The morning light filtered through the modest lace curtains of my childhood bedroom. It was a stark contrast to the sprawling, hyper-modern estate I had shared with Rodrigo for the past three years. Here, there were no expensive abstract paintings or marble floors. Just the faint smell of my mother’s morning coffee, the sound of birds chirping outside, and the warmth of a home built on genuine love.
Lucía was sleeping peacefully on the twin bed beside me, her small chest rising and falling rhythmically. Her soft, fair skin looked angelic in the morning sun, and when her eyelids fluttered open, those striking, ocean-blue eyes looked up at me with absolute trust.
I kissed her forehead softly. "Good morning, my sweet girl," I whispered.
My phone, sitting on the nightstand, had been buzzing non-stop since 6:00 AM.
I picked it up and flipped through the notifications. There were thirty-seven missed calls from Rodrigo, dozens of frantic text messages from his friends, and countless news alerts from local business journals and tabloid outlets.
The story had broken nationwide overnight.
ARANDA FAMILY EMPIRE SHAKEN BY PATERNITY & FRAUD SCANDAL
Leaked court documents and event recordings reveal decades of deceit within city’s top real estate dynasty.
I tapped on one of the articles. A prominent investigative reporter had managed to obtain audio recordings from the party—no doubt leaked by one of Teresa’s high-society "friends" who couldn't resist the temptation to destroy her rival. The scandal was the top trending topic across social media.
A soft knock came at my bedroom door, and my mother walked in, carrying a tray with two fresh cups of tea and a plate of warm toast.
"How did you sleep, mi amor?" she asked gently, setting the tray on the bedside table.
"Better than I have in months," I admitted, sitting up and pulling my hair into a ponytail. "Is Dad still awake?"
"He's in the kitchen talking to your lawyer," my mother replied, a faint, proud smile on her face. "Ms. Vance—funny coincidence with her last name, by the way—says the initial filings went through smoothly this morning."
I smiled. My lawyer, Elena Vance (no relation to Gabriel Vance, though the shared name had felt like a poetic sign when I hired her), was a ruthless family court strategist who specialized in high-asset divorces against wealthy families.
My phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed an unknown, official number. I answered it.
"Daniela Salgado?" a firm, professional voice spoke on the line.
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Inspector Robert Cole from the Financial Crimes Division. I am calling regarding the documentation submitted by your legal counsel this morning concerning the unauthorized trust liquidations by Teresa Aranda."
I sat up straight, my tone becoming completely focused. "Yes, Inspector. How can I help you?"
"We have reviewed the wire transfers and bank logs you provided," Inspector Cole said. "Given the scale of the fraudulent transfers and the involvement of offshore shell companies, we have opened a formal federal inquiry. We will need you to come in for a formal deposition tomorrow morning."
"I will be there," I said without hesitation.
"Thank you, Mrs. Aranda—"
"It's Salgado," I corrected gently. "Daniela Salgado."
May you like
"Understood, Ms. Salgado. We will see you tomorrow."
As I hung up the phone, I took a deep breath. The storm was far from over. Teresa and Rodrigo were not going to disappear quietly into the night, and Paulina’s powerful family firm was already preparing a counter-attack. But as I looked at my daughter playing with the edge of her blanket, I knew I had already won the most important battle: I had protected her truth.
