Chapter 3 - The Confrontation in the Mansion
While doctors worked feverishly to clean Diego’s wounds, administer intravenous antibiotics, and flush the sedatives from his bloodstream, Ricardo walked out of the hospital doors and climbed back into his black SUV. He didn't turn on the radio. He didn't call his corporate attorneys yet. He simply gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather groaned under his fingertips.
When he pulled back through the gates of the Lomas de Chapultepec mansion, the sprawling estate looked obscenely peaceful. The manicured lawns, the gleaming marble fountains, the pristine white walls—it was a gilded cage designed to hide a monster.
Ricardo pushed open the double front doors. Valeria was sitting in the formal living room, swirling a glass of high-end Rioja wine, her designer handbag still slung over her arm. She didn't even look up as he entered, her expression a mix of annoyed impatience.
“Well? Is the little drama queen throwing a tantrum for the doctors now?” Valeria sneered, taking a sip of her wine. “Honestly, Ricardo, you always overreact. You spend three months flying around the world playing tech god and you come back ready to turn our lives into a soap opera.”
Ricardo walked across the marble floor in absolute, terrifying silence. He stopped right in front of her chair, towering over her.
Valeria finally looked up, her smug expression faltering slightly as she saw the look in his eyes—a cold, dead void that promised absolute destruction.
“What?” she snapped, standing up defensively. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“The doctors found lorazepam in his blood, Valeria,” Ricardo said, his voice terrifyingly quiet, carrying an icy resonance that rattled the crystal decanters on the sideboard.
Valeria’s face lost its color instantly. The wine glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor, spraying deep red liquid across her designer shoes like splattered blood.
“Th-that’s ridiculous,” she stammered, taking a step back. “He had trouble sleeping! The pediatrician gave him mild drops—it’s totally normal!”
“The pediatrician prescribed sleep aids? Or did you buy heavy psychiatric sedates off the black market so you wouldn't have to listen to him cry while his skin rotted off his body?” Ricardo roared, finally snapping, his voice shaking the rafters of the grand foyer as he lunged forward and grabbed her by the wrist.
Valeria shrieked, trying to pull away. “Let go of me! You have no proof! You were in Europe! You don’t know what goes on in this house!”
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“I know everything I need to know,” Ricardo whispered, his face inches from hers, his eyes blazing with fury. “The police are already on their way here with a search warrant for your private quarters, your phone records, and every nanny cam in this house. Your perfect little high-society life is over, Valeria. Every single lie, every drop of poison, every second of abuse you put my son through—you are going to pay for it with every single thing you own.”
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