Chapter 3 - THE COLLAPSE OF CARDS
At seven-thirty in the morning, the sharp, relentless alarm on Mateo’s phone rang.
He groaned, rolling over in his king-sized bed, his head pounding from the scotch he had consumed the night before. Beside him, Valeria was already stirring, reaching for her silk robe, her face set in its usual mask of mild annoyance.
"Mateo, tell your mother to bring my green tea immediately," Valeria muttered, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "And tell her to make sure Santiago’s shirt is ironed. I have an eight-thirty meeting with the country club committee."
Mateo sat up, rubbing his face. The memory of the previous night flashed through his mind—Valeria’s sharp voice, his mother’s pale, heartbroken face, and his own cowardly decision to walk away into the kitchen.
A sudden, uncomfortable knot of guilt twisted in his chest.
"Valeria... maybe you were a bit too hard on her last night," Mateo said quietly, pulling on his trousers. "She’s seventy-one. She spent five hours with Sofia when she had a fever."
"Hard on her?" Valeria sneered, walking to the vanity. "Mateo, she is living in an Uptown Dallas high-rise for free! She doesn't pay rent, she doesn't pay utilities, she eats our food. The least she can do is keep the floor clean and look after her grandchildren without complaining. She should be grateful we didn't put her in a state nursing home!"
Before Mateo could respond, a loud, thunderous knock rattled the front door of the condo.
Valeria frowned sharply. "Who on earth is knocking like that at seven-thirty in the morning? Is your mother asleep? Why isn't she answering the door?"
Mateo walked out of the bedroom, crossing the hallway into the living area. "Mom?" he called out. "Mom, can you get the door?"
No answer.
The service room door stood wide open. The bed was made with military precision. The old brown suitcase was gone. The yellow apron she usually wore was folded neatly on the mattress.
Mateo walked into the dining room and stopped cold.
In the center of the large table lay the cream-colored envelope bearing his name, written in his mother's unmistakable handwriting.
Before he could pick it up, the pounding on the front door intensified.
Valeria walked out of the master suite, her face red with frustration. "Where is she? Why is the front door locked? Mateo, open it!"
Mateo walked to the front door and pulled it open.
Standing in the hallway were two men in dark gray suits carrying leather briefcases, flanked by two armed deputy sheriffs from Dallas County and Mr. Henderson, the chief operations officer of Vanguard Property Management.
"Mateo Alvarez?" Mr. Henderson asked, his tone devoid of any corporate warmth.
"Yes?" Mateo stammered, looking at the sheriffs in confusion. "What is going on here? Is there some kind of mistake?"
"There is no mistake, Mr. Alvarez," Mr. Henderson declared, stepping forward and handing Mateo a thick stack of legal documents stamped with urgent court orders. "I am serving you with an Notice of Immediate Lease Revocation and Emergency Premises Eviction."
Valeria gasped, stepping beside Mateo. "Eviction? Are you out of your mind? My husband is a senior partner at Vance & Alvarez! We lease this apartment through our family estate!"
"No, Mrs. Alvarez, you do not," Mr. Henderson said coldly. "This property is registered under the Alvarez Family Living Trust, managed by Sterling, Vance & Montgomery. As of six o'clock this morning, the sole trustee, Mrs. Guadalupe Alvarez, has terminated your tenancy-at-will due to gross breach of contract and property neglect."
Mateo felt the blood drain from his face. "My... my mother? What are you talking about? My mother lives in the back room!"
"Not anymore," Henderson replied. "You have exactly two hours to gather your personal belongings, clothes, and essential documentation. At ten o'clock sharp, the locks on this unit will be electronically rotated, and security will escort you from the building."
"This is insane!" Valeria screamed, her expensive voice cracking in panic. "Mateo, call your lawyer! Call your firm!"
Mateo’s hands shook as he pulled out his smartphone and frantically dialed the managing partner of his law firm, Arthur Vance.
The line connected on the first ring.
"Arthur!" Mateo yelled into the phone, his voice laced with terror. "Arthur, something crazy is happening! Property managers are at my apartment with sheriffs claiming my mother owns my condo and is evicting us!"
A long, chilling silence met him on the other end of the line.
When Arthur Vance spoke, his voice was cold as stone.
"It’s not just the condo, Mateo."
Mateo froze. "What?"
"Ten minutes ago, our firm received a formal legal notice from Sterling, Vance & Montgomery," Arthur Vance said quietly. "The five-million-dollar capital loan that founded this firm—the loan secured by your mother’s trust—has been called for immediate default liquidation. Our bank accounts have been frozen by federal court order until the capital is returned."
"No... no, that's impossible..." Mateo whispered, sinking to his knees on the marble floor.
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"Your partnership at this firm is suspended effective immediately, Mateo," Vance added, his tone utterly devoid of sympathy. "And off the record, Mateo... your mother came to my office four years ago and set up your entire career because she wanted her son to succeed. How could you let your wife treat her like a dog?"
The line went dead.
