Chapter 2 — The Man Santiago Should Never Have Crossed
Chapter 2 — The Man Santiago Should Never Have Crossed
The silence inside the mansion became unbearable.
Santiago stared at the man standing in the doorway, trying to hide the uncertainty creeping across his face.
"I'm sorry," he said with a forced smile. "You must have the wrong house."
The older man didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly removed his leather gloves.
His gaze never left the red fingerprint still visible on my cheek.
"I don't make mistakes," he said calmly.
His voice carried no anger.
It was colder than anger.
It was certainty.
I exhaled for what felt like the first time all night.
"Dad..."
Santiago frowned.
Dad?
His eyes shifted between us.
Then he laughed.
"Valeria... what kind of joke is this?"
The two attorneys stepped forward.
One placed a thick folder on the marble console table.
"Mr. Santiago Rivas," he announced. "We represent Mr. Ricardo Salazar."
The smile disappeared from Santiago's face.
Beatriz slowly set her wine glass down.
"You mean..." she whispered.
"Yes," Ricardo interrupted.
"I'm Ricardo Salazar."
The room froze.
For two years Santiago had bragged about winning contracts from Grupo Salazar.
For two years he had desperately tried to arrange meetings with its elusive founder.
For two years he never realized the daughter he abused every day was the very woman whose family had quietly financed his failing company.
Santiago looked at me as though seeing me for the first time.
"No..."
I met his eyes.
"My name isn't Valeria Mendoza."
"It's Valeria Salazar."
His knees almost gave out.
Ricardo nodded toward one of the attorneys.
The attorney opened the folder.
"Effective immediately, Grupo Salazar is demanding full repayment of every outstanding loan guaranteed to Rivas Holdings."
Another document followed.
"Additionally, every pending acquisition has been suspended."
Another.
"Every line of credit has been frozen."
Another.
"And after reviewing evidence of criminal conduct, we are submitting formal complaints for fraud, conspiracy, domestic abuse, document forgery, and attempted unlawful confinement."
Santiago's breathing became uneven.
"You can't prove any of that."
I finally spoke.
"Actually..."
I reached into my pocket.
"...I can."
I handed my father a small remote.
He pressed one button.
The enormous television above the fireplace came to life.
Security footage filled the screen.
Every slap.
Every threat.
Every insult.
Every discussion about declaring me insane.
Every plan to steal my child.
Every word had been recorded.
Beatriz stumbled backward.
"Turn it off!"
"No," Ricardo answered.
"For once in your lives..."
"...you're going to watch yourselves."
By the time the recording ended, the mansion was silent except for Santiago's ragged breathing.
Then the lead security officer stepped forward.
"The police are waiting outside."
Santiago's confidence finally collapsed.
He looked at me.
"Valeria... please."
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It was the first time he had ever said my name without hatred.
It was also the last.
