Chapter 2: Confrontation Under the Chandelier
Chapter 2: Confrontation Under the Chandelier
Dr. Silva arrived through the service entrance, followed closely by the catering delivery. While the doctor examined the girls and ensured they were fed warm, nutritious broth, Alejandro stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at the den of vice his home had become.
Jimena was still on the dining table, clinking glasses with a man Alejandro recognized as Ernesto, the corrupt attorney.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Alejandro’s voice boomed over the loud music, cutting through the bass like a thunderclap. He walked down the stairs, his rain-soaked jacket removed, revealing the imposing silhouette of a man who had built an empire from nothing.
The music suddenly stopped as a servant, seeing Alejandro’s face, quickly unplugged the sound system. The guests quieted down, murmuring in surprise. Jimena turned, her eyes widening in momentary shock before she masked it with a glossy, fake smile. She climbed down from the table, adjusting her diamond necklace.
"Alejandro, darling! You're early!" she squealed, swaying slightly from the alcohol as she walked toward him, arms open. "We were just throwing a little charity gala for the holidays. You know how much I love giving back."
Alejandro stood perfectly still as she approached. When she reached out to touch his face, he caught her wrist in a grip of iron. The warmth left the room instantly.
"A charity gala, Jimena?" Alejandro asked, his voice dangerously low. "Is that what you call starving my daughters in the dark while you dance on my table?"
Jimena’s smile faltered, her eyes darting to Ernesto, who straightened his tie and stepped forward. "Look here, Alejandro, you're making a scene in front of our guests. Jimena has been under a lot of stress managing this house—"
"Shut up, Ernesto," Alejandro snapped, not taking his eyes off his wife. He tightened his grip on Jimena’s wrist just enough to make her gasp. With his other hand, he drew the hidden ledger and the forged corporate documents from his inner pocket and threw them into the air. The papers scattered across the expensive rug, landing at the feet of the wealthy guests.
"You thought I was too busy in Monterrey to notice," Alejandro said, his voice echoing in the dead silence of the room. "You fired the staff. You kept my daughters in freezing rooms. You fed them garbage. All while you and your lover here plotted to steal my company and lock my children away in an asylum!"
The guests began whispering furiously, picking up the papers and looking at the forged signatures and the chilling medical drafts. Jimena’s face turned pale as ash. The alcohol-induced confidence vanished, replaced by stark terror.
"Alejandro, it's not what it looks like! The girls... they are sick, they have eating disorders, I was trying to protect them!" Jimena lied frantically, tears of panic finally welling in her eyes.
"Dr. Silva is upstairs right now," Alejandro replied, his face a mask of stone. "He is documenting the severe malnutrition and psychological abuse. You didn't want them to look pretty while suffering, Jimena. You wanted them gone."
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Ernesto backed away, reaching for his coat. "This is a domestic dispute. I have nothing to do with this—"
"You're not going anywhere," Alejandro said. He clapped his hands twice. The heavy mahogany front doors burst open, and four uniformed police officers, accompanied by Alejandro’s chief of security, stepped into the foyer.
