Chapter 4: The Hacienda Eviction
"You... you tricked me!" Andrés gasped, gripping the edge of the marble table as his legs seemed to give out under him. He sank into one of the leather executive chairs, staring at the promissory note. "You lied to me for eleven years! You hid millions of pesos while I paid for everything!"
"You paid for your suits, your tequila, and your mother's pearls, Andrés," I replied coldly. "I paid the mortgage on the house we lived in. I paid for Sofía and Valentina’s tuition. And I paid to save your failing company because I thought you were at least a decent father."
"We're married!" he shouted, desperation clawing into his voice as he tried to find a legal loophole. "Any company you built during our marriage is marital property! I own half of Horizonte Capital!"
Elena Morales leaned forward, opening a thin black folder.
"Actually, Mr. Villaseñor, under Article 189 of the Civil Code and the separation of property regime you explicitly insisted upon signing three days before your wedding—because your mother was terrified Lucía would 'take your family inheritance'—you have zero claim to Horizonte Capital," Elena said with a razor-sharp smile. "Your mother's greed protected Lucía's assets perfectly."
Andrés looked as if he had been physically struck. Doña Patricia had forced me to sign that prenuptial agreement eleven years ago, boasting that no "nobody" would ever touch a peso of the Villaseñor name.
"And there is one more administrative matter," I said, tapping a secondary document on the table.
"What now?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
"The hacienda in Querétaro," I said. "Your mother has been posting on social media all weekend about her 'new summer home.' Unfortunately, your logistics company leased that property from one of my real estate trusts."
"No..." he breathed, shaking his head.
"Because Villaseñor Logistics is now in commercial default, the lease is formally terminated," I continued. "My property managers are at the hacienda right now. They have given your mother until noon to remove her luggage and vacate the premises."
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"She's there right now with my aunts!" Andrés yelled, standing up frantically. "Lucía, please! You can't humiliate her like that! She's an elderly woman! She'll never recover from the shame!"
"Tell her that the good houses," I said, looking him dead in the eye, "are for women who treat their granddaughters like human beings."
