Chapter 5 - The ScapegoatThe night the media storm reached its peak, San Pedro Garza García looked like a fortress under siege. The lights of the De la Vega mansion remained on, but the curtains were tightly drawn. Outside, the world demanded answers; inside, the monsters sought a way to bury their tracks before the water rose above their heads.
I was in the service patio, cleaning some rags I had allegedly used to finish detailing the SUV. From my position, I could hear the shouting echoing through the upstairs windows. Doña Victoria and her husband, Bernardo, who had arrived on an emergency private flight from Mexico City, were destroying the living room with their arguing.
"I told you to control that boy, Victoria!" Bernardo's voice roared, hoarse with fury and tobacco. "The attorney general can't do anything anymore! The video has millions of views on social media. There are people outside our offices downtown. This is no longer a matter that can be fixed with a check!"
"Don't yell at me, Bernardo!" she responded with a hysterical screech that I instantly recognized. It was the exact same tone of voice, the exact same pitch loaded with contempt she had used the night she pushed my Elena. "Mauricio is your son. If you can't use your influence to sway the judges, what the hell is the point of all the money you have in the bank? Get him out of the country now! The private jet is ready at the North Airport."
"The federal prosecutor stepped in, Victoria. There's an immigration alert. If Mauricio steps foot in the airport, they'll arrest him right there for the newspaper photos. The governor made it clear to me: they need a head on a spike to calm the people down. If we don't hand someone over, they're going to come for the whole family."
A heavy silence, thick as oil, fell over the house. I stepped a little closer to the kitchen window, keeping my body hidden in the garden shadows. Doña Rosa was inside, praying with a rosary in her hands, crying silently in front of the altar to the Virgin she kept by the sink. She knew the air in that house was poisoned.
"Then... we have to give them what they want," Doña Victoria said, and her voice dropped in volume, becoming cold, calculating, almost a lethal whisper. "We have to give them a culprit."
"What are you talking about? The car is in the company's name. The cameras show the silhouette of a man driving."
"We have the chauffeur, Bernardo. We have Mateo. That boy started working here recently. No one in our circle knows him. He came from some starving neighborhood on the outskirts. If we tell the police that he took the keys to Mauricio's car without permission to go see a girlfriend, and that he was the one who ran over the kid... the press will have their story. A reckless chauffeur, a disloyal employee who joyrode the bosses' car."
"And you think he's going to stay quiet? He'll tell the truth the second they put him in a patrol car."
"Not if we offer him enough money to secure the future of whoever he has waiting outside," Doña Victoria declared with a certainty that churned my stomach. "And if he doesn't accept, we use whatever influence you have left to frame him for stealing jewelry. One way or another, that wretch is going to pay for my son's guilt. That's what they're there for, Bernardo. To absorb the blows that life aims at us."
Hearing her plan didn't surprise me. On the contrary, I felt a wave of relief wash over my body like an electric current. They wanted to use me as cannon fodder. They wanted to destroy my family again to save theirs. Doña Victoria thought she controlled the game, not knowing that I had written the rules from the very first day I crossed her iron gates.
Minutes later, the service door opened. Bernardo de la Vega stepped out onto the patio, dressed in an expensive suit but with his tie loosened and his face dripping with sweat. He looked around until his eyes met mine.
"Mateo," he called, trying to force a tone of command that the situation was making very hard to muster. "Come here. The señora and I want to speak with you in the study. Right now."
"Yes, sir," I replied, lowering my head, assuming the role of the frightened employee they expected to see.
I followed him down the marble hallways. Every step brought me closer to the end of the road. We entered the private study. Doña Victoria was sitting behind her mahogany desk, a glass of cognac in her right hand. Her eyes, fixed on me, were two slits filled with pure malevolence. Next to the stone fireplace, the marble statue was still in its place, with that microscopic stain of my wife's blood hidden on its base.
"Close the door, Mateo," Doña Victoria ordered, taking a sip of her drink.
I obeyed in silence. I stood near the entrance, hands clasped in front of me, imitating the tense posture of a servant terrified of losing his job.
"Mateo, you know the family is going through a... complicated time," Bernardo began, leaning against the table. "Young Mauricio's car was involved in an incident. A minor accident with a street kid. But the press is making things up, you know how journalists in Monterrey are, they want to destroy our family name out of pure envy."
"I've seen it on the news, sir. It's a very unfortunate situation," I said, keeping my voice low and submissive.
"Straight to the point, Bernardo, we don't have time for speeches," Doña Victoria interrupted, standing up. She walked toward me, stopping less than a meter away. The smell of her expensive perfume flooded my nostrils, causing the same disgust as always. "Mateo, we need you to do a special service for us. The most important of your life. We need you to go to the Prosecutor's Office tonight and declare that you were driving the white car yesterday at four in the afternoon."
I looked her in the eyes, feigning deep surprise, parting my lips slightly as if I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Me, señora? But... I was here at the house detailing your SUV. I didn't touch young Mauricio's car until he asked me to take it to the shop."
"Nobody cares about that," she spat with contempt, waving her hand as if swatting away a fly. "What matters is what you are going to say to the authorities. You will say you took the car without authorization for a personal matter. In exchange, my husband is going to deposit two million pesos into a bank account. With that money, a starving nobody like you can live like a king for the rest of his days in whatever state you choose when you get out. We will hire the best lawyers so the sentence is no more than two or three summers in prison. It's a fair deal, Mateo. You take the blame, save my son, and your life changes forever."
"And if... and if I don't accept, señora?" I asked, forcing a tremor into my voice, pushing the charade to its absolute limit of suspense.
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Doña Victoria let out a dry, cold laugh that echoed off the wooden walls of the study. She took a step closer, so close I could see the lines of arrogance etched into her face.
"If you don't accept, Mateo, you're going to prison anyway," she said with terrifying calm. "But you're going to go without a single peso, accused of aggravated robbery and extortion against our family. I have my mother-in-law's jewels locked in the safe; all I have to do is tell the police we found them in your work backpack for you to spend the next twenty years rotting in a maximum-security cell. And let me tell you something... I know you have a sick daughter in some shack on the outskirts. If you're locked up and penniless, who do you think is going to pay for her medicines? That girl will die before you ever see the light of day again. Think of her, Mateo. Don't be stupid."
