CHAPTER 2 — THE FIRST ACCOUNT FALLS
Inside the private dining room, Evangelina stood frozen beside the anniversary cake.
Her wineglass had slipped from her hand and shattered across the floor.
Every phone at the table seemed to be ringing at once.
Octavio Ibarra, Alonso’s father, stared at the screen of his tablet as a red banner appeared across the company’s banking portal.
ACCESS TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED — COURT-ORDERED REVIEW
“What is this?” Evangelina demanded.
Alonso entered the room.
No one was laughing now.
His younger brother, Tomás, lowered his phone. The cousin who had recorded Renata’s humiliation quietly deleted the video, unaware that it had already been uploaded to a shared family account.
Evangelina grabbed Alonso’s sleeve.
“What did that woman do?”
Alonso ignored her and looked at his father.
“Which accounts are frozen?”
“All accounts associated with the Ibarra Housing Initiative,” Octavio replied. “And three accounts connected to the foundation.”
Evangelina’s face tightened.
“That is impossible.”
Octavio looked up.
“Why?”
“Because those accounts have nothing to do with Renata.”
Alonso’s silence answered before he could.
Octavio slowly rose.
“What did you put in her name?”
“Nothing that can’t be explained.”
Evangelina slapped the table with her palm.
“Do not discuss this here.”
Around them, relatives pretended not to listen.
The restaurant manager entered, followed by a uniformed security officer.
“Mr. Ibarra,” the manager said, “we need to speak with you regarding an incident involving your wife.”
Evangelina stared at him.
“What incident?”
“The hallway camera recorded Mr. Alonso attempting to restrain her.”
“I did not restrain anyone,” Alonso said.
The manager’s expression remained neutral.
“We also received a request to preserve footage from this dining room and the hallway. Nothing will be deleted.”
Evangelina’s eyes moved toward the camera in the corner.
For the first time, she seemed to remember the plate, the chair, and the laughter.
“That woman planned this,” she said.
The manager glanced at the food still staining the floor.
“It appears the chair was deliberately kicked.”
“She fell.”
“Then the footage will confirm that.”
Evangelina turned to Alonso.
“Find her.”
“She left.”
“Then call her.”
“She won’t answer.”
Octavio’s tablet chimed again.
A confidential email had arrived from the company’s independent auditors.
He opened it.
His breathing changed as he read the first paragraph.
“What is it?” Tomás asked.
Octavio looked at Alonso.
“The auditors received seven years of internal ledgers.”
Evangelina’s lips parted.
Alonso stepped closer.
“From whom?”
Octavio scrolled to the signature at the bottom of the message.
The document had been submitted by a legal representative acting on behalf of a previously undisclosed shareholder.
“A shareholder?” Alonso said. “Who?”
Octavio looked around the table, his face pale beneath the chandelier light.
“The shareholder holds thirty-two percent of Grupo Ibarra.”
“That’s impossible,” Evangelina whispered.
Octavio turned the tablet around.
On the screen was a scanned certificate bearing the name of a woman who had supposedly died with nothing.
ELENA CRUZ — FOUNDING PARTNER
Beneath it appeared the name of her sole beneficiary.
RENATA CRUZ IBARRA
Octavio looked at his wife.
“You told me those shares had been dissolved.”
May you like
Evangelina did not answer.
And in that silence, Alonso understood that his mother had been hiding something from him too.
