Chapter 4 - The Web of Greed
Dawn broke over São Paulo, washing the gray concrete towers in a sickly amber light. Inside the interrogation room at the central police precinct, the air smelled of stale coffee and damp wool.
Marcos sat behind a two-way mirror, his eyes locked on the man sitting across the metal table in the adjacent room.
Gustavo.
He had been picked up two hours earlier hiding inside a budget motel near the Tietê bus terminal, clutching a leather duffel bag stuffed with two hundred thousand reais in cash and forged passport documents bearing his photograph and a fake name.
Inspector Vance sat across from Gustavo, tossing a thick manila folder onto the table with a sharp slap.
“You’re looking at attempted aggravated homicide, conspiracy, and illegal trafficking of minors, Gustavo,” Vance stated calmly, leaning back in her chair. “The cash in your bag matches serial numbers withdrawn from a corporate account belonging to Horizon International Holdings. Care to explain why a multi-million-dollar real estate conglomerate was paying your living expenses?”
Gustavo trembled, his eyes darting frantically toward the glass window, knowing Marcos was watching him. He licked his dry lips, his arrogant facade completely shattered.
“I didn't want her to die!” Gustavo finally blurted out, his voice cracking with panic. “It wasn't supposed to go that far!”
Behind the glass, Marcos gripped the edge of the wooden console.
“Then what was the plan, Gustavo?” Vance leaned in, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Why fake your sister’s death? Why ship her body to a crematorium with a signed death certificate from a corrupt coroner?”
Gustavo buried his face in his trembling hands, the words tumbling out in a broken confession.
“It was about the trust fund,” he sobbed. “When our grandfather died, he left his entire industrial real estate portfolio to Ana under a strict generational clause—she couldn't touch the principal until she gave birth to a legitimate heir. But if she died... if she and the child both passed away before the birth, the entire estate reverted to the secondary bloodline. To me.”
Marcos felt the room spin. It wasn't just corporate greed. It was family.
“And the baby?” Vance pressed, her eyes narrowing. “Who ordered the child?”
“I didn't know buyers could be so sick!” Gustavo cried, shaking his head frantically. “I partnered with Dr. Hernan Silva at Sanctuary Fertility. We... we set up an international adoption syndicate for high-net-worth clients who couldn't conceive naturally. Hernan said we could use a surrogate, that Ana’s natural egg combined with an elite donor profile could fetch millions on the private black market overseas. But Ana found out! She discovered the clinic ledger on my laptop last week! She threatened to go to the police!”
Gustavo looked up, tears streaming down his face. “Hernan said he would handle it. He said he’d make her disappear quietly, make it look like a tragic highway accident, induce a drug-induced coma, harvest the baby safely after her passing, and cremate the evidence before anyone asked questions. I swear, I didn't know they were going to put her in the coffin before harvesting the child! Hernan assured me she’d be legally dead!”
Marcos didn't wait for Inspector Vance to finish questioning him. He pushed away from the observation glass, his vision burning red with a wrath he had never known existed.
“Dr. Hernan Silva,” Marcos muttered, grabbing his jacket from the chair. “Where is he?”
Inspector Vance rushed out of the observation room as Marcos headed for the precinct exit. She grabbed his arm, her expression grim.
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“We have a SWAT team mobilizing right now to raid the Mooca warehouse,” Vance said firmly. “You are staying right here, Marcos.”
“Like hell I am,” Marcos replied, his voice dangerously low. “That monster put my wife in a coffin while she was still breathing. I’m going to watch him burn.”
