Chapter 8 - THE GHOST OF ISABELLA
Salazar walked slowly toward the center of the stable, his eyes flicking over the trembling children with cold calculation. "Isabella wasn't the saint you mourned for two years, Alejandro," Salazar said softly, the betrayal dripping from his tongue. "She was ruthless. When she realized she couldn't bear children of her own without risking exposure of a genetic condition, she forced Elena to carry her husband’s children through secret IVF—using your own frozen samples from the clinic in Guadalajara, harvested without your knowledge during your medical checkups." Alejandro felt his stomach churn violently. Every memory of Isabella—her sweet laughter, her gentle touch, the shrine he had kept in his heart—shattered into jagged pieces like cheap glass. She had played him like a chess piece in a high-stakes game of corporate breeding. "Why kill her now?" Alejandro demanded, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Elena didn't want the money," Salazar replied, shaking his head. "She wanted her daughters back. She tried to run last week, and Isabella's former associates—the board members who still run her shadow accounts—poisoned her slowly. They thought if Elena died, the girls would vanish into the system, and the trust fund would revert back to the corporate foundation under board control." Salazar held out an open palm. "Give me the medical files and the girls, Alejandro. I can protect them. You are just a builder of concrete and steel. You won't survive the wolves circling this estate." Alejandro looked down at Sofía and Lucía, who were burying their faces in his shirt, clutching his jacket like it was their only lifeline. He looked back at Salazar, a cold, ruthless resolve settling deep into his bones. They thought he was just an architect. They had no idea what a man driven by absolute fury was capable of building—or destroying.
