Chapter 8 - The Confrontation at Las Lomas
The Santa Fe corporate office of Villaseñor Real Estate was located on the forty-second floor of a sleek glass tower overlooking the city skyline.
Inside the grand boardroom, twelve wealthy board members sat around an oval glass table, listening to Gonzalo Vega speak at the head of the room.
"Gentlemen," Gonzalo said, adjusting his gold silk tie, his voice filled with artificial gravity. "Diego Villaseñor has brought shame upon this institution. He has involved us in a sordid personal scandal, attacked Senator Robles publicly, and allowed his judgment to be compromised by an uneducated domestic worker. I propose an immediate vote of no confidence to remove him as Chief Executive Officer."
A few older board members nodded in solemn agreement.
"I second the motion," one elderly investor said, raising his hand.
Before the corporate secretary could tally the vote, the heavy double glass doors of the boardroom shattered inward.
A thick wooden wedge slammed into the floorboards as two federal police agents in tactical gear stepped inside, followed immediately by Diego Villaseñor.
Diego walked into the room like an apex predator entering a feeding ground. He was holding a black leather briefcase, his face entirely unreadable.
"Please," Diego said softly, his voice cutting through the panic in the room like a cold blade. "Don't let me interrupt the vote."
Gonzalo went pale, stepping back toward the glass window. "Diego! What is the meaning of this federal intrusion? This is a private board meeting!"
Diego walked up to the head of the table, set his leather briefcase down, and opened it with two crisp snaps.
He pulled out a thick stack of printed bank statements, wire transfer logs, and recorded telephone transcripts provided by federal prosecutors.
"Gonzalo," Diego said, leaning both hands on the oval table, looking his vice-president in the eye. "Four years ago, you paid Sandra fifty thousand dollars to hide my daughter's existence from me. You created a shell company in Panama to track Marisol Gutierrez in Tepito, and you arranged for her to be placed in my home as a maid so you could destroy her if she ever spoke up."
The board members gasped, looking between Diego and Gonzalo in shock.
"That’s absurd! Lies! Fabrications!" Gonzalo yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "He’s insane! He’s trying to cover up his own personal mess!"
The lead federal agent stepped forward, pulling a blue warrant folder from his vest.
"Gonzalo Vega," the agent announced, his voice reverberating off the glass walls. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit grand fraud, interstate wire fraud, human trafficking coercion, and corporate embezzlement."
Two agents grabbed Gonzalo by his arms, forcing his hands behind his back as the steel handcuffs clicked shut.
Gonzalo thrashed against them, his face distorted with rage. "You think you’ve won, Diego? You think you’re going to live happily ever after with a dirty little housemaid? She doesn't love you! She used you!"
Diego walked slowly up to Gonzalo, stopping inches from his face.
"Marisol worked sixteen hours a day in my house for four years to feed my child, while you stole millions from my company to pay for your yachts," Diego whispered coldly. "She has more dignity in her pinky finger than you have in your entire bloodline."
He turned to the federal agents. "Take him out of my sight."
As Gonzalo was dragged out of the boardroom screaming curses, Diego’s personal cell phone buzzed violently in his pocket.
He pulled it out and answered. "Mateo? What happened?"
As Mateo’s voice detailed the attack in the garden at Las Lomas, Diego’s face turned from cold triumph to absolute terror.
"Is Marisol okay? Is Valentina hurt?" Diego demanded, his voice shaking so violently the board members shrank back in their seats.
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"They are safe, sir," Mateo reported over the line. "Paulina has been arrested for attempted murder with industrial acid. Mrs. Gutierrez saved the child. Neither of them was harmed."
Diego didn't say another word to his board of directors. He dropped his briefcase, sprinted out of the boardroom, and took the private express elevator straight down to his waiting car.
