Chapter 5 - Confronting Uncle Rogelio
The sun was just beginning to break over the dusty, chaotic outskirts of Valle de Chalco by the time my black SUV navigated the narrow, unpaved streets.
The contrast between the sterile glass towers of my corporate empire and the corrugated tin roofs of this neighborhood was staggering. This was where I had grown up—where my mother had spent her nights sewing clothes under the dim amber glow of a single hanging bulb so I could afford my first computer science textbook.
I parked the SUV outside a small, weather-beaten concrete room with a rusted iron gate.
Standing outside the doorway, smoking a cheap cigarette, was my uncle Rogelio.
He looked older, thinner, his face weathered by cheap tequila and decades of small-time dishonesty. When he saw my luxury vehicle pull up, his eyes widened with panic. He tried to turn and slip inside the doorway, but I stepped out of the car and slammed the driver's side door with a sound that echoed down the alley.
“Rogelio!” I shouted.
He froze, slowly turning around with a sickly, nervous grin plastered across his face.
“Alejandro, mijo! What a surprise! I heard you were coming, but—”
I didn't let him finish. I crossed the dusty yard in three long strides, grabbed him by the collar of his stained shirt, and slammed him against the concrete wall with enough force to rattle his teeth.
“Where is she?” I demanded, my face inches from his.
“A-Abuela? She’s inside! Ernesto and Lupita brought her back last night! She’s resting, Alejandro, I swear I didn't—”
“Shut your mouth,” I growled, tightening my grip. “You told me she died fifteen years ago. You took hundreds of thousands of dollars from me under the pretense of medical bills, while you left her to rot in this garbage dump.”
“It wasn't just me!” Rogelio choked out, clawing at my wrists in terror. “I swear to God, it wasn't just me!”
“Who else?”
“The woman! Your wife! Veronica!” Rogelio wailed, tears springing to his eyes. “She contacted me eighteen months ago! She found out your mother was still alive through a private investigator! She told me to keep her hidden, to send periodic fake updates, and promised that when the time was right, she would pay me a lump sum of two million dollars to make sure your mother never returned to San Francisco!”
The confession hung in the humid morning air, absolute and undeniable.
I shoved Rogelio away from the wall. He stumbled, collapsing into the dirt, coughing and gasping for breath.
“You sold your own sister’s life for a paycheck,” I said, looking down at him with utter disgust.
I didn't hit him. Violence was too clean for a man like Rogelio. Instead, I pulled out my phone, dialed Javier, and put it on speaker.
“Javier?”
“Boss, I’m here. Asset freezes are in place. Warrants are being signed by the judge right now.”
“Add Uncle Rogelio to the indictment,” I said coldly, looking down at the shivering man in the dirt. “Charge him with fraud, extortion, elder abuse, and conspiracy to commit financial manipulation. Make sure he spends every remaining year of his life in a federal penitentiary.”
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“Consider it done, boss.”
I hung up, stepped over Rogelio without another glance, and pushed open the creaking wooden door of the small room.
