Chapter 4 - The House of Glass
The climax arrived on a Thursday evening at the Robles estate. Carmen had invited the city’s elite for an "engagement celebration," intended to announce the absorption of Sofia’s assets into their family portfolio. It was a gala of gold, silk, and absolute, unchecked hubris.
Sofia, recovered enough to stand but still wearing the physical scars of that night, walked into the ballroom on Alexander’s arm. The music stopped. The room went silent. Carmen, draped in diamonds, approached with that same brittle, predatory smile.
“Sofia, darling,” Carmen purred. “Ready to finalize the transition?”
Alexander stepped forward, his hand slipping into his jacket. He didn't pull a gun; he pulled a remote.
“Carmen,” he said, his voice booming across the ballroom. “Before you finalize anything, I think you should see the footage of your son’s signature.”
Behind us, a massive projector screen flickered to life. It wasn't the wedding photos. It was the footage of Javier in my living room, signing the confession. Then, it cut to the hidden camera footage we had placed in the hotel suite, the one Carmen didn't know existed—the footage of her and her six hired goons locking the door, the audio of her screaming for the condo, and the sound of the blows.
The room erupted. The elite of Dallas, the people whose approval Carmen craved, were watching their own hostess commit a felony in high definition.
May you like
Carmen’s face turned an ashy, deathly gray. She reached for her phone, but Alexander signaled the door. Federal agents, tipped off by the documents Alexander had hand-delivered that morning, swarmed the room.
It wasn't just a scandal. It was an extermination.
