Chapter 13 - The Blackout
The blackout lasted twenty-two seconds.
When the lights returned, Mercedes was gone.
So was her security team.
I ran.
Carmen’s officers intercepted me near the exit.
Mateo called.
“Isabella is safe.”
I stopped.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m looking at her.”
“Then who sent the message?”
“Cloned number.”
Mercedes had wanted me to panic publicly.
She wanted cameras to capture me losing control.
Instead, security footage showed her leaving during the blackout.
That mistake mattered.
Why flee if she had nothing to hide?
Police obtained the winery warrant before dawn.
The underground archive was empty.
Someone had cleared it within hours.
But they could not remove the walls.
Forensic teams found burned paper fibers inside a furnace.
One fragment contained Javier’s name.
Another contained Lucia’s.
A third carried a bank routing number.
The account led to Luxembourg.
The anti-corruption unit froze it.
Three hundred and twelve million euros.
Mercedes retaliated immediately.
News outlets received anonymous documents accusing me of embezzlement.
The forged psychiatric report appeared online.
Headlines called me unstable.
My company’s stock-linked debt instruments fell.
Banks demanded explanations.
Board members panicked.
Exactly as she intended.
I convened an emergency board meeting.
For the first time in my career, I told them everything.
Not every secret.
Enough.
One director asked whether I could prove any of it.
I placed Isabella’s recorded messages on the table.
Then Lucia’s letter.
Then the Gibraltar ledger.
No one spoke.
“I will step aside temporarily if this board believes my presence harms the company.”
My oldest director, Enrique Salas, stood.
“No.”
Others looked at him.
He pointed at the documents.
“If half of this is true, stepping aside gives the people attacking us exactly what they want.”
The board voted.
Eleven to one.
I remained.
The single vote against me came from Javier’s former mentor.
Police arrested him before he left the building.
He had been sending internal documents to Mercedes.
That afternoon, Carmen received word from Tangier.
Javier had been located.
Moroccan police detained him at a marina.
But before extradition could be completed, someone attacked the transport convoy.
Two officers were injured.
Javier escaped.
Hours later, a private boat crossed toward Spain.
Mateo tracked it to an abandoned marina near Estepona.
We alerted police.
Then Isabella disappeared.
Not from the safe house.
From inside the police transfer vehicle moving her to a new location.
The escort car was found abandoned.
The driver was unconscious.
The female officer beside Isabella was missing.
On the back seat lay Isabella’s yellow hair ribbon.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
Carmen stared at the empty car.
“This was planned from inside.”
My phone rang.
Javier.
“Now we negotiate.”
“Let me hear her.”
A pause.
Then Isabella’s voice.
“Dad?”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Javier took the phone.
The board's support bought us time, not safety.
Creditors demanded independent audits.
Employees feared layoffs.
I addressed the company in a live broadcast and told them no job would be sacrificed to protect my reputation.
If wrongdoing existed under my name, we would expose it ourselves.
Transparency became a weapon Mercedes had not expected.
“Bring the Gibraltar ledger.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you.”
“If you hurt her—”
“Gabriel.”
He laughed softly.
“You came home early once.”
May you like
“Don’t be late this time.”
