Chapter 4 - The Castle of Cards
Roberto took a frantic step backward into the warmth of the kitchen, his polished leather shoes slipping slightly on the tiles. The contrast was sickening—inside, the countertops were covered in premium catering platters, expensive cheeses, and artisanal breads, while outside, my son’s fingers were still covered in grease from discarded bones.
"Gabriel, wait! You don't understand the full context," Roberto pleaded, holding his hands up defensively, the designer watch catching the bright light of the kitchen chandelier. "The inflation... the construction costs in Jalisco went completely through the roof! I had to allocate the funds to secure the property. I had to maintain a certain corporate image to get the permits approved by the municipality!"
"A corporate image?" I roared, the dam finally breaking. I stepped over the threshold, my heavy work boots leaving dark, muddy tracks on his pristine porcelain floor. "You bought two luxury vehicles and threw yourself a high-society party using the money I earned while inhaling diesel fumes for three years! You told my wife I abandoned her!"
From the adjoining living room, the music abruptly cut out. The sudden silence in the mansion was deafening. A woman with heavily styled hair and an expensive diamond necklace stepped into the kitchen doorway, holding a crystal glass. It was Sophia, Roberto’s wife. When she saw me covered in mud and rage, and then caught sight of Valeria standing shivering in the doorway behind me, her face turned a sickly, guilty shade of white.
"Roberto, what is going on?" Sophia whispered, her voice tight with panic. "Who is this? The guests are asking about the music."
"Get the guests out of here, Sophia," I said, turning my gaze onto her, my eyes drilling into her expensive jewelry. "Get them out right now before I start throwing people through these floor-to-ceiling glass windows."
Sophia gasped, dropping her glass. It shattered against the tile, champagne splashing across the room. She turned on her heel and sprinted back toward the living room, her high heels clicking frantically as she began hushed, panicked announcements to the wealthy crowd. Within minutes, the grand house was filled with the sounds of hurried apologies, coats rustling, and front doors slamming as the guests fled the building like rats escaping a sinking ship.
Valeria walked into the kitchen, carrying Mateo in her arms. The bright light revealed the full extent of her physical neglect. She had deep, dark bruises around her wrists from where Roberto had forcefully dragged her out of the main house when his high-class friends arrived. Mateo was shivering, staring at the platters of fresh food on the counter with a primal, heartbreaking hunger.
I walked over to the counter, grabbed a tray of fresh chicken breast sandwiches, and handed it directly to Valeria. "Eat," I told her softly, my voice breaking. "Eat whatever you want. This is your house. Every single brick of it was bought with your husband's blood."
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Roberto saw the legal trap closing around him. His defensive pleading began to morph into something uglier, more desperate. "You can't prove anything, Gabriel," he hissed, backing toward the hallway where his home office was located. "The accounts are in my name under the power of attorney. The deed to this house is registered to my corporation. In the eyes of the law, you didn't buy anything. You just sent gifts to your older brother."
He offered a cold, trembling smirk. "Go ahead and call the local police. They know me. I pay the local inspectors. You’re just a sailor with a high paycheck and zero leverage in this town."
