Chapter 6 - THE SILENT RAID
The destruction of the Reyes family did not happen with a loud explosion; it happened in absolute, suffocating silence. While Andrés was still weeping in my parents' living room, federal agents were walking into the glass-paneled lobby of the Reyes Investment Group headquarters downtown.
According to Marcus, who was receiving live updates from his contacts, it was a textbook raid. The elevators were shut down. Employees were asked to step away from their keyboards. Beatriz was pulled out of a board meeting, her diamond bracelets clinking as agents handed her a federal search warrant spanning three hundred pages.
She demanded to call her lawyer, screaming about harassment and political persecution. But when the lead agent placed a printed copy of the hidden Project Horizon ledger on the boardroom table—the exact ledger she thought was encrypted and buried—her screams stopped.
I sat at my parents' dining table, watching the news alerts begin to populate on my phone. *Federal Authorities Raid Prominent Dallas Investment Firm.* Reyes Group Under Investigation for Massive Fraud.
"It's done," I whispered, closing my eyes.
My mother wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind, kissing the top of my head. "It's just beginning, sweetheart. But the worst part is over."
Andrés had fled our house in a blind panic, peeling out of the driveway to try and reach his mother, but he was too late. By the time he arrived at the corporate office, the building was cordoned off. His credit cards were already declining. The empire of lies they had built on the backs of investors, masked by high-society galas and fake smiles, was crumbling into dust.
Later that evening, Marcus returned. He looked tired but triumphant. "Beatriz has been taken into custody. They found the secondary servers in her home office. The financial records perfectly match your data pull. Furthermore, because of the assault charge you filed, the judge denied her immediate bail, classifying her as a flight risk given her offshore connections."
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"She's in jail?" I asked, the words feeling strange and heavy on my tongue. The woman who wore Chanel suits and drank thousand-dollar wine was sitting in a holding cell.
"Yes," Marcus smiled grimly. "And she is absolutely terrified."
