Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
I returned home late that afternoon, my mind racing with a terrifying clarity. My mother was now upstairs resting, exhausted from the emotional toll of her resurfacing memories. I walked straight into Alejandro's study without knocking.
He was standing near the fireplace, holding a glass of scotch. Sitting across from him in one of the leather armchairs was Victor Sterling—a towering, silver-haired man in his late sixties, wearing a tailor-made navy suit. On his right pinky finger sat a thick silver signet ring bearing a crest.
The exact ring my mother had described.
Both men turned to look at me as I slammed the door behind me.
"Mariana," Alejandro said, his tone cautious. "Victor dropped by to discuss the upcoming municipal contract."
"Did he?" I said, my voice dripping with venom as I stepped into the center of the room. "Or did he drop by to make sure the homeless woman you brought home hasn't remembered who struck her down twenty years ago?"
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, though his face remained a masterclass in calm, political composure. He took a slow sip of his drink and looked at Alejandro. "I thought you said your wife was handling this situation with discretion, Alejandro."
"She is," Alejandro said quickly, moving between me and Victor. "Mariana, please. Go upstairs. We will talk about this later."
"No, we won't talk later!" I snapped, pulling the old land registry document from my purse and throwing it onto the desk. "Victor forged my father's signature on the land transfer deed in 2004. My mother walked into the office and caught you both red-handed. Victor struck her, left her for dead in a construction pit, and you helped him cover it up!"
Alejandro closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Mariana, you don't understand the whole story—"
"I understand enough!" I yelled. "I understand that my husband built his life on my mother's blood and my father's ruin!"
"That is enough," Victor said, standing up smoothly from his chair. The warmth in his eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating chill. "Mrs. Cruz, you are emotionally unstable. You are making wild accusations based on the ramblings of an elderly woman who has lived on the streets for twenty years. No court in this country will take her testimony over mine."
"She remembers the silver ring, Victor," I said, pointing directly at his hand. "She remembers the red papers. And with modern forensic technology, I can guarantee you that a re-investigation into that old construction site will yield evidence."
Victor turned his gaze to Alejandro, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "Fix this, Alejandro. Immediately. Or I will ensure that both you and your company burn to the ground before I ever step foot in a courtroom."
Without another word, Victor adjusted his jacket, walked past me, and left the room, the heavy front door slamming shut moments later.
Alejandro stood frozen in the center of the study. When he finally looked up at me, there were tears in his eyes—a sight I had never seen in fifteen years of marriage.
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"You think I did this out of greed, Mariana?" Alejandro asked, his voice shaking. "You think I brought her here to hide a crime?"
"Then tell me why!" I screamed, tears spilling down my face. "Why did you keep quiet for twenty years?! Why did you bring her to our house yesterday?!"
