Chapter 2: The Empire Behind the Lie
The foyer fell into complete silence.
Even Santiago seemed unable to breathe.
My father, Ricardo Salazar, removed his black leather gloves one finger at a time before looking directly at me.
"Valeria."
His voice was steady.
"Come here."
For two years, I had dreamed about hearing those words.
Instead of running into his arms, I hesitated.
Not because I didn't trust him.
Because I was ashamed.
Ashamed that I had hidden my pain.
Ashamed that I had believed love could survive cruelty.
Ricardo crossed the marble floor himself.
He stopped in front of me and gently rested one hand against my bruised cheek.
His eyes lingered on the faint marks around my wrist.
Then they moved to my swollen stomach.
Finally, they settled on Santiago.
"You touched my daughter."
It wasn't a question.
Santiago forced a laugh.
"Mr. Salazar, whatever she told you is completely—"
"Be quiet."
Ricardo never raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
One of his attorneys stepped forward carrying a tablet.
"The conversation occurring in this residence has been livestreamed and securely archived," she announced.
"Along with recordings collected over the past three weeks."
Beatriz's confident smile disappeared.
"What recordings?"
The attorney touched the screen.
The hidden camera footage began playing.
Santiago threatening me.
Beatriz discussing forged psychiatric reports.
Conversations about taking my child.
Every word echoed through the mansion.
Neither of them spoke.
When the recording ended, Ricardo looked at Santiago with complete indifference.
"My daughter married a man."
He paused.
"Instead, she found a criminal."
Another attorney opened a second folder.
Inside were financial statements from the Rivas Group.
Months of overdue loans.
Default notices.
Personal guarantees signed by Santiago himself.
"You've been surviving on emergency financing from anonymous lenders," the attorney said.
Santiago nodded cautiously.
"Yes."
Ricardo slid one document across the table.
"The lender was Grupo Salazar."
Recognition slowly spread across Santiago's face.
"No..."
Ricardo's expression never changed.
"You've been living on borrowed time."
"And I own the clock."
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For the first time in his life, Santiago realized the fortune he had relied upon existed only because my father had allowed it to.
That permission had just ended.
