Chapter 5 - The Shredded Pages of the Vance Empire
"Get your hands off those papers!" Victoria snarled, her voice dropping its refined cadence, turning shrill and desperate as she clawed at Lucía’s wrist. Her fingernails bit into Lucía’s skin, leaving crescent-shaped red marks, but Lucía didn't budge an inch.
"Not a chance, Victoria," Lucía said, her voice steady and laced with a cold, righteous fury. She turned her head toward the notary, who was half-standing, trembling behind his desk. "Mr. Notary, as the legally designated witness to this proceeding—and under the emergency civil statutes regarding incapacitated persons—I demand that you open that portfolio and read every single clause aloud to this room."
The notary swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. He looked from Victoria—who was now breathing heavily, glaring at him with a look that promised absolute ruin—back to Lucía, and finally toward the bed where Alejandro was being stabilized by the medical team.
With shaking hands, the notary reached for the silver letter opener on his desk. He sliced through the thick red ribbon binding the primary portfolio.
"No! You have no right! This is a private family matter!" Victoria screamed, lunging forward again, but two of the invited guests—business associates who had grown thoroughly disgusted by the display—stepped forward and gently but firmly blocked her path, their arms crossed.
"Let him read it, Victoria," one of them said grimly. "We all came here under the impression we were witnessing a legitimate marriage and estate trusteeship. If there is something else hidden in these contracts, we have a right to know what we were invited to endorse."
The notary unfolded the top document, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses with trembling fingers. He began to read, his voice echoing clearly in the hushed hall.
"‘By execution of this instrument...’" The notary paused, clearing his throat nervously. "‘...the undersigned, Alejandro Vance, hereby irrevocably assigns one hundred percent of his voting shares in the Vance Corporation, along with all proprietary rights to his personal trust fund and real estate holdings... to Victoria Vance, sole executor, with immediate forfeiture clauses activated upon any legal marriage or failure of direct heirs to claim within ninety days...’"
The notary stopped reading and looked up, sweat beading on his forehead.
The silence in the room was absolute.
Lucía stared at Victoria, the final pieces of the puzzle snapping into place with chilling clarity. It wasn't a marriage certificate she was supposed to sign. It was a complete, irreversible abdication of Alejandro’s entire empire, disguised as a matrimonial asset-sharing agreement.
Victoria had engineered the entire scenario. She knew that if Alejandro remained in a coma past the ninety-day statutory limit, his corporate holdings would automatically default to an independent state board. To prevent that, she needed a proxy spouse—someone pliable, uneducated in corporate law, and emotionally vulnerable—to sign a waiver granting her absolute control under the guise of "protecting him."
And once Lucía had signed away those rights as his legal wife, Victoria would have had absolute control over his estate, his medical decisions... and, potentially, his very life support.
"You monster," Lucía whispered, the words carrying across the silent hall like the crack of a whip. "You weren't trying to protect your son. You were trying to steal everything he built while he lay helpless in a bed."
Victoria stopped struggling. She straightened her tailored suit jacket, her chest heaving, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom. Her eyes lost every pretense of maternal warmth, revealing a cold, calculating greed that chilled everyone in the room to the bone.
"You know nothing, you little nobody," Victoria spat, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "Alejandro was weak. He wanted to give away half the empire to charitable trusts and silly architectural projects. He was destroying everything his grandfather and I built. I was securing the future of this family while you were pouring coffee to peasants in Atocha!"
Before anyone else could speak, a sharp, clear voice cut through the tension from the center of the medical bed.
"Mother."
The single word stopped everyone in their tracks.
May you like
Victoria spun around. The medical staff had stepped back, lowering the oxygen mask completely. Alejandro was sitting upright against the propped pillows, color slowly returning to his cheeks. His eyes, sharp and clear, were fixed directly on his mother with an expression colder than winter ice.
"The meeting is adjourned," Alejandro said softly, his voice steady and resolute.
