Chapter 8 - The Web Tightens
8
Andrés stared at the paper as if it were a venomous snake ready to strike. His lips parted silently, his breath hitching in his throat, while the alcohol-induced bravado evaporated from his eyes, replaced by a cold, soul-crushing terror.
“No... no, this is impossible,” Andrés whispered, his voice trembling so violently the paper fluttered in his grip. “I signed with Cruz’s offshore fund! We had an agreement! The transfer was executed through the Panamanian escrow!”
“Agreements change, Andrés, when the underlying debt is bought out by someone with deeper pockets and better intelligence,” I replied, my voice as cold as glacial ice. “Did you really think Victor Cruz was your friend? Did you think a professional loan shark and corporate liquidator cared about your grand plans of escaping to Madrid?”
I leaned in closer, my eyes locking onto his terrified gaze.
“Cruz didn't care about you from day one, Andrés. The moment my forensic team flagged your offshore transfer, Horizonte’s acquisition unit quietly approached the Panamanian bank holding your loan. We didn't just outbid Cruz; we bought out his entire syndication interest at a hundred cents on the dollar, assuming all collateral rights—including the Chapultepec penthouse.”
Andrés let out a choked, desperate sound, gripping his head in his hands as the reality of his utter, irreversible ruin crashed down upon him.
“You... you own the penthouse too?” he sobbed, the alcohol completely wearing off, leaving only raw, naked panic. “You own the hacienda, you own my debts, you own my home... What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go? You’re destroying me!”
“I’m not destroying you, Andrés. I’m simply allowing you to experience the exact consequence of your own choices,” I said quietly, standing up from the booth and smoothing down the jacket of my pantsuit. “You wanted to play the high-roller. You wanted to treat your family like disposable props in your performance of wealth. Well, the curtain has fallen.”
I looked down at him one last time, my expression devoid of anger, pity, or mercy.
“Enjoy your tequila, Andrés. It’s going to be the only thing you own by the end of the week.”
I turned on my heel and walked out of the dingy lounge, leaving him sitting alone in the dark shadows of his own making, weeping into the sticky wood of the table.
As I pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped back out into the cool Querétaro evening air, my phone buzzed instantly in my coat pocket.
It was Mateo Garza.
I answered immediately. “Report.”
“Lucía,” Mateo’s voice came through, urgent and sharp. “We just received an encrypted alert from our intelligence network in Mexico City. Victor Cruz has just caught wind of our debt buyout on San Lucas Holdings. He’s furious. He’s currently mobilizing his private security team and scheduling an emergency confrontation at your downtown corporate office for tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM.”
May you like
A slow, confident smile touched my lips.
“Good,” I said smoothly. “Tell building security to roll out the red carpet for Mr. Cruz. I’ve been wanting to meet the man who thought he could buy my family out from under me.”
