Chapter 3 - The Web of Deception
Santiago’s arms wrapped tightly around Valeria, his chest heaving as he glared at me from across the sterile hospital bed. The performative concern he usually reserved for me was now openly lavished on his mistress.
"Mariana, what did you say to her?" Santiago snapped, his voice sharp and laced with authoritarian anger. "Valeria is carrying my child. She came here out of the goodness of her heart to check on you, and you sit there spewing venom like a cornered animal!"
I looked at him—really looked at him—tracing the sharp jawline that I used to trace with tenderness, remembering the vows he recited in front of God and our families. How easily men of power discarded their vows when convenience knocked on their door.
"She came to gloat, Santiago," I said, my tone flat, unbothered, and utterly devoid of the tears he expected. "And your acting skills are slipping. You don't need to yell at me on her account. My health is fragile, remember? The cancer diagnosis and all that."
Santiago’s expression flickered awkwardly. The mention of the fake cancer diagnosis in front of Mateo—whom he assumed was just an impartial corporate auditor or insurance adjuster—reminded him to reign in his temper. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tailored suit jacket.
"Valeria, honey, let's go," Santiago said softly, kissing the top of her head. "You shouldn't be subjected to this kind of stress in your condition. I'll have my driver take you back to the penthouse."
Valeria sniffled, casting one last triumphant, venomous glance at me before turning on her Louboutin heels and sashaying out of the room.
Once the door clicked shut, Santiago turned back to me, his tone shifting into one of patronizing exhaustion. He didn't even notice Mateo quietly packing his laptop into his briefcase in the corner.
"Mariana, I know you're angry," Santiago sighed, walking over and placing a heavy hand on my blanket. "You're grieving the loss of your reproductive capacity. It’s natural to lash out. But you need to accept reality. Dr. Althaus did what was medically necessary to save your life. We can look into surrogacy later down the road, once you're healed."
Surrogacy. With Valeria as the incubator, no doubt.
"Of course, Santiago," I replied, forcing my eyes to look moist, playing the broken, compliant wife just long enough to seal his doom. "You're right. I'm just overwhelmed."
A wave of palpable relief washed over his face. He loved obedience above all else. A wife who fought back was a liability; a wife broken by tragedy was a manageable asset.
"That's my girl," he smiled, leaning down to press a cold, perfunctory kiss to my cheek. "I have to fly to New York tonight for the quarterly investor summit. I’ll be gone for three days. The private nurses will take care of you here, and when you’re discharged, my security team will escort you directly back to the estate."
"Have a safe flight," I whispered, watching the back of his head as he turned and walked out, completely blind to the guillotine blade suspended by a single thread directly above his neck.
Once the elevator doors chimed down the hall, Mateo leaned back in his chair, letting out a low, whistling laugh.
"My God, Mariana," Mateo murmured, his eyes glittering with legal bloodlust. "He’s not just a monster; he’s profoundly arrogant. He genuinely believes he’s untouchable because he controls the medical boards and the local judges in this district."
"Let him keep believing it," I said, sliding my legs slowly over the side of the hospital bed, gritting my teeth against the sharp pull of my surgical stitches. "Arrogance is the armor that makes the fatal blow land deeper. What's our next move, Mateo?"
"We don't go to local court," Mateo said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Santiago has bought off half the municipal judges in Greenwich and Manhattan. Instead, we bypass them entirely. We take the audio file, the hospital admission logs, the forged surgical consent forms, and financial transaction records of payoffs to Dr. Althaus straight to the Federal District Attorney's office under a sealed RICO and medical conspiracy umbrella. And simultaneously, we file an emergency injunction freezing all personal and corporate assets tied to Ramírez Media."
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I stood up, holding my lower abdomen, and looked out the reinforced glass window toward the glittering Manhattan skyline where Santiago's corporate headquarters pierced the clouds.
"Freeze everything," I whispered. "Let’s see how long his empire stands when he can't even pay his private jet fuel bill."
